Stranger in our midst

I came to London to pursue myself. When my schooling finished I was off: out of the small town in Scotland where I had outgrown the system, the community and the culture. London offered limitless opportunities of self-improvement, education, anonymity, career and success. Yet I encountered loneliness, loss and self-doubt. I had hoped to find happiness in the achievement of academic prowess and purpose in a city paved with promise. Yet I found emptiness and shallow relationships in which conversations revolved around establishing tenuous links between people who neither cared nor engaged with the other. I was that Other: the Alien. My interactions were framed around this insistence that I was this Other, as if by identifying myself as different I could ease the pain of cultural misunderstanding. Instead of finding a commonality I focussed on the difference between us.

And now? London is my home. I have found fulfillment in the very things from my hometown that I shunned 7 years ago: community, family and a slower pace. I no longer feel or act like an Alien but instead enjoy encountering them in our midst. And yet, my eternal inheritance means I am not of this world, so in a way I remain a stranger, passing through. London is my mission field but it is also my home. Living here is my purpose but settling here is not. Encountering and celebrating difference is my lifeblood, even more as I do so from a place of experience of knowing that bewilderment at this city and her people.

The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world

I spent yesterday with a group of feminists. Most of them were strong, all of them were female. We were discussing the ways in which NGOs could encourage women to become politically active. Somehow the conversation traversed through gendered obstacles to the crux of the matter: mothers need to bring their sons up to respect women. And so we returned to that age old expectation that “the hand that rocks the cradle, rules the world”. Tails of choosing boys only schools for their sons were shared, each woman around the table nodding in agreement that their beloveds ought to complete their education in a girl-free environment, lest the girls tempt and distract their sons.

Eve’s curse haunts us still. Woman: the weak, the seductress, the vulnerable. Man: acts without taking responsibility. Where then does this leave our struggle with an unequal society? I would argue that in our efforts to create a level playing field, on which men and women can play and contribute to society, the perpetuation of the myth that men are superior to women has spoiled all our efforts. We strive not for equality, a thoroughly biblical concept, but instead for sameness. Women ought to have access to contraception and abortions because they must be able to be the same as men. Women must have an education so they can be the same as men. Women must rise to the top of business, academic and political structures so they can prove they are the same as men. However, I firmly believe men and women are different. Our bodies, our minds, our motivations are different. But our worth can be, and in God’s eyes is, the same. We should turn from perpetuating stereotypes of all women as temptresses (sure, some are) and men as weak victims in the battle of sexuality, for neither stereotype builds women and men into the pillars they can be within our families, communities and societies. Let us celebrate difference and affirm worth. Perhaps if we do this from a young age, our children might grow up to aspire to be the best women and men they can be and our society will accept that women and men and contribute in equal but different ways. Together: in community and in partnership.

Loving God enough to break the rules

On her departure from London, my best friend gave me a card picturing two women growing old disgracefully.

As much as I loved my friend’s beautiful words of love which filled the space inside, at the time I found this card’s message hard to swallow. I find breaking rules very difficult indeed. Rules of punctuation, the highway, etiquette and sport have always inspired me to be the best I can be within those set parameters. What then, of Jesus’ suggestion that those who are persecuted for righteousness sake, will be blessed with and by the Kingdom of God?

Am I brave enough to through caution to the wind, to take risks, to open myself up to the possibility of failure? How can I call myself a follower of Jesus when the consequences of following him might mean breaking some of my own rules, expectations and norms and encountering persecution in doing so?

Context is of course important to consider and risk-taking for risk-taking's sake is probably a bit daft really. But maybe, just maybe, on this adventure called life I will start to break my own rules and find freedom in doing so.

Love

Love isn't always a feeling. It's an act of the will.

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.