Tag: honesty

Filling the Gaps

Filling the Gaps

by Bethany Kaldas

‘When You said, “Seek My face,”

My heart said to You, “Your face, Lord, I will seek.”’

Psalm 27:8

I know a lot of regular people who think they are terrible human beings—I’m sure you do too. You might even be one of them. It’s easy to understand why. After all, we get front row seats to our own misdeeds, every cutting remark, every envious thought or impure desire. If we look at humanity in general, we see selfishness and greed sown into almost every action, every word, and when we dare to look within, we can see the monstrous weeds those seeds grow into.

Lately, I find myself asking: Why do people do evil in the first place? If I’m being perfectly candid with you, it was my own sin that inspired such a question. I constantly find myself in the dilemma Paul captured so perfectly, of doing what he willed not to do and not doing what he willed to do, but in my own life. I follow impulses I know will end badly, boarding trains of thought destined for ruin. And I find myself asking—why? Why do I do these things?

I know, I know—we’re selfish. I’ve asked this question before and that’s the answer I most commonly receive. Humans are innately selfish, we’ve evolved to put ourselves first. But even if that’s true, I still don’t think that can fully explain sin. After all, some—perhaps most or even, all—sins are really sins against ourselves more than anyone else. Especially in modern times, we’re constantly doing things we know are bad for us. We are not only enemies to each other, but our own worst enemies too. And a lot of the time, we know that very well.

So…why? And Where does it come from?

‘Where do wars and fights come from among you? Do they not come from your desires for pleasure that war in your members? You lust and do not have. You murder and covet and cannot obtain. You fight and war. Yet you do not have because you do not ask. You ask and do not receive, because you ask amiss, that you may spend it on your pleasures.’

James 4:1-3

We have a desire that is not sated, a longing not fulfilled. This verse from James implies it is a desire for pleasure—and I do not deny that at all—but if pleasure really is the missing piece, then why are we not fulfilled by sin? Why does the glutton not stop once he has cleaned out his fridge? Why don’t the proud content themselves with the admiration of their loved one, instead of continuing to demand it of strangers? If pleasure was what we needed, then sin should be self-defeating—once we have sinned, we should sin less. So why does reality tell us the opposite?

‘You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.’

St Augustine of Hippo

I want to say that every human who ever lived has been seeking God their whole lives—every single one. Just wait—hear me out.

We were made in the image of God—in the image of Love Himself. Naturally, all those made in His image seek love. Surely that is easy enough to accept—there’s not a person out there who doesn’t need to be loved, it’s just part of what we are.

But we are fallen—we are broken. We are full of cracks and holes and we want nothing more than to fill them—but our image is distorted, deformed. We are filled with a desperate need…but we do not remember what it is for.

And so, we search.

 

‘And out of that hopeless attempt has come nearly all that we call human history—money, poverty, ambition, war, prostitution, classes, empires, slavery—the long terrible story of man trying to find something other than God which will make him happy.’

C.S. Lewis (Mere Christianity)

We seek to be filled, so we overeat, or eat the wrong things, or abuse the planet and each other in the hopes of finding something that will satiate our empty hearts.

We seek to be strong, so we demean others, or force ourselves over them, or spit on them, we hate them, we murder them with words and works.

We seek to be happy, so we act rashly for short-term gain and long-term loss, we follow our instincts and impulses, blind guides that promise a thrill but leave us empty and more broken than we began.

We seek to be loved and to love, and so we lust, we lie, we flirt and demand attention—wherever we can find it, even if we know it will end in heartbreak and even deeper loneliness.

We seek to be valuable, so we puff up, we focus on ourselves, we neglect our kin, we envy others, we sabotage them, we sabotage ourselves and then expect pity and wallow in the dread that nobody cares.

I say these of myself first and foremost, but I believe most, if not all, of us can sympathise.

If you take any sin, and you look at it hard—you dig deep down to the roots, I think you’ll find that sin is not, in fact, a desire for evil. It is hamartia—it is ‘missing the mark.’ It is a misplaced, misremembered, deformed desire for the only One Who can fulfil that desperate yearning…it is a desire for all God is, but without God Himself. It is a failure to remember that He is what we need—that He is our Beloved, that He is our satisfaction, our strength, our joy, our love and value. He is everything—He is oureverything. But we forget, we seek Him without Him—we seek after gifts, forgetting the Giver, forgetting that it was Him, and nothing else, that we actually need.

‘Man is a hungry being. But he is hungry for God. Behind all the hunger of our life is God. All desire is finally a desire for Him.’

Alexander Schmemann (For the Life of the World)

Consider even the very first sin of man. Was the great crime of Eden disobedience? Was it gluttony? Lust for power? Was it the desire to be like God?

No, it could not be—we are calledto be like God—it is the goal of a Christian life. That wasn’t the problem. The desire to be like God is only an issue when you want to do it apart from God Himself.

Alexander Schmemann goes on to describe the forbidden fruit as such in his book, For the Life of the World:

‘Not given, not blessed by God, it was food whose eating was condemned to be communion with itself alone, and not with God.’

Alexander Schmemann (For the Life of the World)

The nature of sin has not changed. The brokenness of humanity is not only the holes we now bear, but our desperation to fill them with all the wrong things. Our hearts are all fractured—if someone says otherwise, they are in the worst denial. Sin is like trying to fix a broken mirror by shoving a wooden plank into the cracks—it only makes the holes bigger, it only distorts the image further.

We all desire to be whole, but it is not possible to be whole without Him—because He is the piece of us that is missing. Perhaps, if we recognise this, we will be one step closer to actually searching for Him. And when we do, we find Him waiting, with open arms, full of all those things we need to be whole again…because it was always Him.

 

‘O Lord, You are the portion of my inheritance and my cup;

You maintain my lot. The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places;

Yes, I have a good inheritance.’

Psalm 16:5-6

Reigniting the Truth

Reigniting the Truth

by Natalie Hanna

If you ask an average person walking down the street if the sun will rise tomorrow, the most likely response would be an obvious “yes!”, with a rather peculiar facial expression attached. If you call upon child and ask what they know about truth, they will likely tell you a story surrounding spilt milk and their mother’s drastic reaction to their first lie. However, if you ask the child’s mother on an honest day whether she has spoken, or believes she has been spoken to in less than the truth during the past week, the sincere response would be a definite yes.

Now, I am not writing to tell you about the rigid selfishness that begs to haunt us as we exit our youth, but instead to utilise these scenarios to emphasise their distinctions. Though it is true that as children we are often educated about tellingthe truth, and indeed as we grow older we more- often-then-not waiver this obligation from our tortured conscious’, the point I endeavour to make is that we are seldom educated about the impactof truth- an absolute truth we know and believe to be a fact.

Going back to my analogies, one can presume with almost certainty that an average person knows and believes that the sun will rise each day as their entire life is dependent upon the absolute truth of this fact. They will wake up each day as the sun rises, go about their day, and sleep soon after the sun sets. A young child may not entirely process the concept of truth, but will no doubt expect the truth of his mother’s wrath when attempting to bend the truth, and will rely on it each day, from his mother’s smile down to the immediate response to his cries when attempting to tie his sandal strap. Further, an adult may have developed a hesitant perception of receiving and presenting the truth, but this in itself is the resultant impact of the absolute truth we have come to know within ourselves about humanities defaults.

The question I ask to reach my end is this; If you are the Christian you say you are, what is the impact of this truth to you? Is it as far entrenched in your routine as the rising of the sun, as consistent as a mother’s care and punishment, or merely a tentative lingering, similar to that of a recognised warning or threat? And beyond this, how does one practically define and apply this to a persona one cannot see, yet alone understand? The extent of these applications arguably, is a personal journey paved by the product of one’s collaborative physical and spiritual struggles in search for more, but I will strive to convey the basic effect, or impact this journey can have.

A higher power, connection to the ranks, or limitless insurance is something any person would jump at. Why not have the upper hand? If daddy owns the company, you’re guaranteed some kind of a job, and hey I’m not complaining if I have a sure guarantee my accidents are freely covered. God is the creator after all, so knowing him must have some sort of advantage. Einstein famously said, “God created the world as a perfect machine and left it to run itself”. I beg to differ. Though indeed God gives us the free willto run our own lives, why would he send down His son if He means to remain uninvolved? And what of the undying hope certain people experience amidst turmoil? Maybe He just plays favourites. Or we could have the ability to connect to Him.

If one gets two magnets dissimilar in strengths and moves the stronger towards the other, they will not meet unless the correct ends are aligned. And try as you may, but in the final stages of the moving journey, at a certain proximity, the smaller magnet will move to meet the other. We are the smaller magnet. And our job is to align ourselves, watch for the incoming, and allow the impact to move us to meet the true source.

The Designer of mountains and Ruler of seas decided to give us one thing beyond them, and that is to feel- to feel the impact of His true love and accept Him as our Father. The methods are known to those who choose to seek them, so I will not go on to explain this. I will only say that it is not a magic trick, but a slow and deliberate burn we must re-ignite each time it fades. My last question to you is; Do you want to feel it?

No Prophet is Accepted in His Own Country

No Prophet is Accepted in His Own Country

by Michael Sidhom

Recently, I’ve indulged myself in a pleasure all too familiar to all of us: re-watching a movie. Yet travelling through that familiar tale, the highs and the lows are not as deep as they were that first time. And as the protagonist’s betrayal approaches, I can wonder and hope if it might this time somehow be different… But always, I find only disappointment. The film is still the same. Static. Lifeless.

The human person, however, is a far greater mystery.

“Both the inward thought and the heart of man are deep,” writes the Psalmist (Psalm 64:6). Man is no static movie, but an undefinable and indefatigable mystery. Human personhood, like all mysteries of the Church, only get worse when we try to define and limit it. But instead, we experience it. The word ‘person’ derives from the Latin persona, meaning a ‘mask’ and so it is inextricably tied up with relationship. We know, of course, that “it is not good that man should be alone” (Gen 2:18). Following Metropolitan Kallistos Ware, we ought to cast aside the sceptical modern axiom, “I think therefore I am,” and replace it with an ancient faithful one: “I love therefore I am.” For man is intimately related to his fellows. But he is also intimately related to God.

“God is a mystery beyond all understanding,” writes St Gregory of Nyssa. Man, in God’s image, is made to be a partaker of that mystery. But what is it that man is partaking of? What is it that man is an image of? It is the God Who is Trinity. It is a God who is both one, just as man is uniquely one, but also three, in communion as man ought to be. And love is the duct tape that binds them together, the music that encourages the perichoreticdance, the blurring of the three-ness into oneness.

This perfect God is also the perfect Man. And this perfect Man dwelt among us and came to His own but His own did not receive Him. It was the God-man, the final prophet, who was not accepted in His own country. The Jews muttered amongst themselves, “Is this not Joseph’s son?” (Luke 4:22), which is to say, do we not know this Man? Is He not simply just like us? “You will surely say this proverb to Me, ‘Physician, heal yourself!’” (Luke 4:23), which again is to say, you call yourself a doctor but yet you still get sick. You are no different to us. You are just as wretched as we are. Thinking they knew the Man, they put a mask, a persona, on Him, and couldn’t see through it. They said, we have seen this film and won’t see anything new here. And so Jesus “went His way” (Luke 4:30).

What was their crime? Was it not limiting this great mystery, this unfathomable depth and unpredictable capacity, of human personhood? And what is their punishment? They fail then to experience, to enter into, the fullness of the life of Christ. Most tragically of all, it is a crime we commit every day. For insofar as we claim to understand anyone, or think we have ‘figured them out’, we shackle them with their own reputation. We strangle them with our estimation of them. We quench the fires of their mysterious personhood when we say, “Is this not Joseph’s son?” They become that static movie to us with no hope, no power, but instead knowledge of a betrayal.

But yet ancient wisdom once again offers an escape. St Isaac the Syrian writes:

When you meet your neighbour, force yourself to pay them more honour than may be their due. Warm your heart fervently with a holy love for them. Attribute to their person all sorts of virtues, even if they may not apply to them. And when they are absent, speak good and noble things of them. Address them in respectful terms. In this sort of way, not only will you impel them to desire these virtues (since they will be ashamed of their undeserved reputation with which you credit them) and sow in them the seed of good deeds, but you will also find that, by habituating yourself in this way, you will establish in yourself gentle and humble manners, and you will be freed from many tiresome struggles. This should be your attitude towards all people.”

The depth of man opens into eternity and reaches towards God. St Isaac encourages us to look into that depth and find communion, and find God. In this way we need not tire ourselves so much with political philosophy and how best to structure society. But let us tire ourselves instead with the work of God, with loving each and every man as the perfect man has loved us. In this way, when we are weary and heavy-laden at the end of our days, we may come to Him and He will give us rest.

True Prayer

True Prayer

A reflection of Metropolitan Anthony Bloom’s “Living Prayer” by St Athanasius’ Book Fellowship

Who are you praying to?

Do you pray to God, or do you pray for your will to be done through God? While we’d all love to say that we pray to God and for His will to be done, there is a more accurate answer. Your life and the person you are becoming reflects your prayer life more truly. You are an image of the one whom you worship.

We know that God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble. If we are worshipping God in false humility then we know that He is far from us. If we are proud then we make God the object of our own will. We make Him the means to an end, and not the end that we should be striving for. There is a fine line between heaven and hell and that line is drawn in the hearts of each of us.

How then, do we discover this purifying judgement?

When we stand in the presence of God, He reveals Himself to us personally. Jesus teaches us in the final days, the hearts of man will be opened when He says:

“When the Son of Man comes in His glory, and all the holy angels with Him, then He will sit on the throne of His glory. All the nations will be gathered before Him, and He will separate them one from another, as a shepherd divides his sheep from the goats.” (Matt. 25:31-33).

An early Church Father once contemplated on this parable regarding church worship. The church is adorned on feast days. The congregation comes dressed in their finest apparel, but only God can distinguish the sheep from the goats. Our hearts are exposed before God. The goats are those subject to pride – that is, the god of their own will. The sheep are the ones that come to God in the confidence of humility. We could be doing all the right things – going to church, praying the Agbia, reading the Bible – yet infinitely far from God.

To worship God in truth is to recognise that my only security is in You, the Creator of heaven and earth. My confidence is in the One who cannot be shaken.

When thousands came to see Jesus in the Flesh, He took notice of one woman. Not because of any grand entrances, but through the greatness of her faith. The woman who had a flow of blood for twelve years touched His garments and believed she would be healed. At this touch, He says, “somebody touched Me, for I perceived power going out from Me.”

There is power in prayer, every time we come before the throne of grace. The woman’s response is the same response we should have toward prayer, for in her response lies the humility of prayers heard.

“Now when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling; and falling down before Him, she declared to Him in the presence of all the people the reason she had touched Him and how she was healed immediately”(Matt 8:47).

The revelation of true prayer

There can sometimes be an overemphasis of our true human states – “I am dirt.” This was never meant to demoralise. It is truth, and it is a truth that switches our sense of security from our imperfect self to the perfect Creator of the universe.

If we stand in front of anything great, what reaction do you expect? If we compare ourselves to the size of the earth, to the size of the galaxy, to the size of universe, the realisation that follows is how small we really are in comparison. The earth becomes likes a drop in the ocean. There is no comparison. The reality of our lives is that despite how small we are compared to our Creator, it is His love that makes us aware of His presence and our shortcomings at the same time.

In prayer, we don’t start with our sinfulness, we start with who God is, followed by our weaknesses. If you are standing in a dark room and you stumble, the first thing you do is turn on the light to prevent yourself from falling again. When the lights are on, you see that damage you caused and how to avoid it. It is a common misconception that we should come to God when we are good, when we have overcome sin. God is the light of our lives. Through Him, we overcome our sins. Our sins are not revealed on their own. God is first revealed, followed by our sins so that we are supported and guided toward life with Him. When God’s glory was revealed to Isaiah, his first reaction was, “I am a man of unclean lips.” This isn’t even necessarily the result of a sin he committed, it was simply the realisation of the Almighty.

Practically speaking, there are three measures to the efficacy of true prayer;

  1. A sense of security and reliance on God
  2. Recognition of my sins
  3. The way I perceive and deal with my neighbours

The true question we need to be asking ourselves to achieve these, is when I fall, how do I react?

If you have thoughts of disappointments – “I don’t do this anymore, I’m better than that. I can’t believe I’ve fallen again.” This is reliance on self. The biggest danger is the nagging voice that says you can make yourself better independent of God. “You’re better than that.” When those self-reliant thoughts are exhausted, turn to God.

The old Adam hides, blames others and ‘clothes’ himself in an attempt to cover up his insecurities. God is like a parachute that we hope we don’t need to use. We don’t want to pull the parachute to keep us alive. God is a nice add on to how you want to appear, an image that will not last. We need to shift Him from our last resort to our One and only hope that we run to at all times.

Another question we ask is, do I pray more fervently in church than I do when I am alone?

We may appear good before others but what about God? I want to be recognised for doing good before God. While there is nothing wrong with praying among others, make sure that after every day, it is in the hidden place that you complete your search for the Almighty.

Let us stop asking “How are you” but imitate the monks who say to one another, “How is your prayer life?” For there is no life that is separated from prayer.