Category: Guest posts

Big day

I am delighted to welcome Paul White to my blog, who is helping us to consider the impact of that big day: Pentecost.

As big days go this is up there.

We have the big day when God spoke and a universe was born – elements exploding into existence, galaxies spiralling in ever-increasing magnitude, atomic suns vast and even more vast blasting out their blazing light for the first time. That was a big day. There was another big day, although less conspicuous – a tiny baby was placed in an animal feeding trough serving as a cradle while multitudes of angels filled the night sky with singing. Then there was the big day, which seemed like a very bad day, when the most incredible human being who ever lived was grotesquely nailed onto a wooden execution pole. This was followed speedily by another massively big day when suddenly the same human being burst out of the rocky tomb, fully, completely, wonderfully alive! Big day. 

This big day is about 120 uncertain disciples in an upstairs room of a house, waiting. They’re waiting because the One who burst out of the tomb a few weeks earlier had told them to wait. He told them to wait and they would receive power when the Holy Spirit – the breath of God – came upon them. There is nothing very remarkable about 120 people in a waiting room, but what happened next changed the course of human history. As they prayed the whole house was physically shaken and a sound came from heaven like a powerful roaring wind, which entered the house and filled it. Flames of fire broke out and rested on each of the disciples, but they were not burned. Spontaneously the 120 began babbling in languages they had never learned, which just happened to be the native tongues of the many foreign visitors present in the city of Jerusalem celebrating the Feast of Pentecost.

ATTRACTIVE SOUND

The sound from heaven attracted many of those pilgrims and a crowd gathered around the now very excited disciples – so excited and euphoric, that the cynics dismissed them as drunk. Peter, however, seizing the moment, stood up in front of a massive crowd and skilfully explained how this spectacle was actually a fulfilment of a prophecy contained in their own Jewish scriptures from a prophet called Joel. Joel foresaw a day when God would pour out his Spirit on “all flesh” (Joel 2:28). Peter, famous for denying all knowledge of Jesus at the night of his trial, preached like a pro about Jesus – his suffering, death and resurrection, and now this – how this unfolding drama was all part of God’s master plan, and had been made possible because Jesus fully accomplished his mission and had returned to God the Father. 

TURBO HUMAN

Jesus, for all the amazing things he did, could only be in one place at one time. Pentecost meant that now his Spirit, or breath, or essence, or nature, or all of these was distributed to ordinary unqualified human beings. The idea was that these God-powered turbo humans ran around the face of the earth infecting everyone else with the same Holy Spirit. Wow!

It turns out, if we read the Bible, that the Spirit or breath of God was the creative power behind the creation of the universe. This Spirit, living in Jesus, healed blind people, put power into paralysed limbs, raised dead people and catapulted Jesus, himself, from the tomb – alive. Surely Pentecost should not just be another date on the Church calendar when we read particular passages of the Bible and sing particular hymns? Surely we should be lining ourselves up to be as full as possible with the Holy Spirit every day, and giving him away at every opportunity…

WHAT IS POSSIBLE?

If the estimates are correct, something close to 30 per cent of the global population now call themselves Christians. That is quite spectacular. If we consider the impact of those 120 original Pentecostal disciples – in a few short years they were accused of having “turned the world upside down” (Acts 17:6). What might 2-3 billion people be capable of, filled with the same power?

THE CHRISTING

In my book, The Christing, recently released by Authentic Media, we take a gallop through the Bible to discover how it has always been God’s plan to use unremarkable human beings to do the most remarkable things. We discover that Christ means anointed, in the same way we might apply ointment, or that a queen or king of the United Kingdom is anointed with oil. We see that the anointing of Jesus is the Holy Spirit, and that the Holy Spirit is a person, not a thing. Take a look and see how the anointing of the Holy Spirit, or the Christing, can transform not only your life but also that of your colleagues, friends, family and random people you encounter through life.

Paul White has a degree in Fine Art (Painting). He now leads the Prayerhouse Church in Weymouth. Married to Anna, he has four amazing children who are the craziest but most beautiful friends and influencers in his life.

The healing power of words

1 Comment

I am delighted to welcome Joy Margetts to my blog, to explain more about the painful yet healing personal story behind her new book The Healing.

I knew almost as soon as I began writing my novel that it was going to be called The Healing. 

A PEACEFUL ‘DOWNLOAD’

The story is a fictional tale. It had come to me, almost as a download, while I sat in the ruins of a Cistercian Abbey on a sunny summer day back in 2019. I was enjoying the deep peace and serenity of the moment, and wondering, in conversation with God, whether the abbey communities of the past had been places where some, at least, could have come and found healing for their souls. The answer I heard was a whispered ‘yes’. 

So the story came. A medieval knight, wounded physically, emotionally and spiritually, finds himself rescued from a French roadside ditch, by a kind Cistercian monk. In order to return to his homeland of Wales incognito, Philip de Braose, aided by his new friend, Brother Hywel, disguises himself as a monk. He finds himself on a journey where he not only becomes immersed in the Cistercian world, but also comes to terms with his pain, reconnects with the God he had long abandoned, and experiences a deep and profound healing: mind, body and soul. Philip then gets the opportunity to restart his life and live it the way God had always intended him to live it. A changed man with a renewed purpose.

MY OWN HEALING

My novel is a story of one man’s healing, but it is so much more. Because it is also my healing. I was able to write this book because it came straight out of my own experience. The truths that Hywel shares with Philip are the things I had to learn, and relearn, during one of the most painful times of my life. 

Eight years ago, I was happy with life. My children were reaching adulthood and beginning to fly the nest. I had a loving husband, a part-time job I loved, and I was actively involved in local church, with a God-given teaching ministry that I relished. Then out of the blue everything changed. I became ill with what was later diagnosed as ME (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) and my world as I knew it was turned upside down. It was as if I hit a wall, emotionally and spiritually, and I could not find God in it at all.

The sense of betrayal was real. I had always trusted Him, and known His faithfulness throughout my life. I had suffered, and indeed experienced healing before. But this time I did not have the strength to fight, to even believe in His goodness any more. Despite how I felt, God had not abandoned me. He proved that by the loving people who surrounded me with their kindness, who prayed when I could not, and who spoke words of truth with love: healing words.

BELIEVING GOD’S WORDS

At the end of each chapter of The Healing are verses from scripture. Each one is special to me, because these are some of the words and promises that I was gently reminded of during that time. I had to make the choice to believe what God was saying, what His word was speaking into my soul. I had to chose to hope in His promises and believe that He was going to fulfil them in my life.

The word of God became my safe place, especially when my mind was under attack. Every day, I read what I could; those words gave me strength and God used them to do a healing work in me. Slowly and gently, graciously and lovingly, God restored my broken spirit, and my wounded soul. He also did a physical healing work in me that is still ongoing. Now I can live a much less restricted life. I can now teach. And I can write. I can again share words that hopefully will bring His healing.

In all of my affliction I find great comfort in your promises, for they have kept me alive!  (Psalm 119:50, TPT)

THE ROAD TO PUBLICATION

I did not set out to write a book for publication. I wrote a story that echoed my own. I found even the writing process a healing one. Remembering all the things that God had taught and reminded me of. Enjoying revisiting those hope-filled promises. And realising, with joyful amazement, just how far I had come. When I had finished writing, it was God I believe who prompted me to send it off to a publisher. That first publisher miraculously offered to publish and here we are now. I am an unexpected author of medieval fiction, and my first book is in print! 

My prayer for The Healing, is not only that people will enjoy reading Philip’s story, but that they will also find within the words of my novel kisses from a God who loves to heal.

The Lord is close to all whose hearts are crushed by pain, and he is always ready to restore the repentant one.       (Psalm 34:18 TPT)

Joy Margetts describes herself as ‘a fifty something mother of two grown children’ who lives on the beautiful North Wales Coast. The natural beauty and history of the area inspires her writing. The Healing will be published by Instant Apostle on 19 March 2021. Pre-publication, signed copies are available from the author at www.joymargetts.com

She wears her mask well…or does she?

3 Comments

It is my great pleasure to welcome Ruth Leigh to my blog today, as part of her blog tour. She has written a fantastic novel, which I couldn’t put down. It is a sort of Bridget Jones for a new generation!

Almost as soon as I had written the first few paragraphs of my novel, The Diary of Isabella M Smugge, I realised that I had created a woman who was a past master at pretence. Having endowed her with a gigantic Georgian house, an immaculate garden, a thriving career and happy lute-playing children in the original blog back in April last year, I had the foundations on which to build a story.

THE ART OF MASK WEARING

I knew my heroine would be extremely good at talking the talk, and so indeed she proved to be. However, it was the little asides that started to betray Isabella. Quoting her mother’s advice about marriage, she comments, ‘Not that it worked out for her and Daddy, but that’s another story.’

Isabella has learned to accentuate the positive, to shine a light on the successful and push anything which might detract from that under the beautifully vacuumed carpet. ‘Naturally’ she’d thought about going for private education, ‘Of course’ her son has been down for a place at her husband’s old school since before he was born. She peppers her diary entries with hashtags, drawing us into her perfect world. 

Sharp-eyed readers will have noted that her parents’ marriage came to grief, and very nearly at the end of the first chapter, she reveals another sadness, triggered by her youngest child’s first day in Reception. Sent away to boarding school at seven, she recalls her mother’s advice to be a brave girl. However, seeing her little sister running down the drive after the car sobbing helplessly is still a painfully vivid memory. ‘Funny,’ she muses, ‘I haven’t thought of that for years.’

THE NEED FOR ‘PERFECTION’

You could say that life as a successful influencer and aspirational lifestyle blogger comes with the need to construct and wear masks. Isabella’s followers are complicit, clicking on perfect images of smiling children, beautiful interiors, parties which never go Pete Tong and wholesome family holidays on sparkling snow-covered slopes. There’s no place for nits, verrucas, sickness bugs, dandruff, ingrowing toenails or anxiety in this blissful world. 

And yet Ms Smugge is as human as her followers, as flawed as we all are, just much, much more practiced in covering it up. It really matters to her that her readers are on the right path, the one which leads to a tidy, sparkling kitchen, a playroom with beautifully arranged toys and a garden with a trampoline, a swimming pool and elegant flower beds, plus a Victorian greenhouse. Isabella has got everything our consumer society tells us we should have, and yet, and yet…

Gin plays a significant part in our heroine’s life, mostly consumed by her mother, ‘Mummy’. Musing about her childhood, presided over by a loving, non-judgemental figure paid by her parents to look after her, Isabella remembers bad days when her father came home to find a gin-soaked and angry mother waiting, ready to have a row. On goes the mask. ‘I wouldn’t want to give you the impression that we had a bad childhood. We had lots of toys, a treehouse, lovely parties and our ponies in the paddock. Nanny would whisk us off upstairs if Mummy and Daddy had one of their arguments, but often, when we were supposed to be asleep, Suze and I would creep out of bed and sit at the top of the stairs, listening to the voices shouting and the doors banging.’

Painting sad little vignettes like this one – two frightened little girls listening to a huge domestic kicking off downstairs – helped me to understand Isabella. She’s worked so hard to get to where she is. All the boxes are ticked, but underneath the shiny veneer, something isn’t right. As the novel goes on, her perfect life begins to unravel and the people who stand by her aren’t the ones she would have expected.

LETTING MY OWN MASK SLIP

When I joined the Association of Christian Writers and went along to my first writers’ day, one of the books I bought was one of Claire’s, Taking Off The Mask. As I read it, I found myself nodding in agreement, saying, ‘Yes. That’s exactly how it is.’ It spoke to me and I read it at a time in my life when I was ready to start allowing my mask to slip. I’m so glad I did, because without that frightening step (and it is scary, no doubt about it), Isabella would never have sprung into life and I wouldn’t be sitting here now, surrounded by tubes of Love Hearts and book wraps, rejoicing that I finally have my heart’s desire.

Isabella certainly learns some lessons as her life progresses and I have too. We all wear masks, to a certain extent, but the joy and the empowerment which comes with taking them off is hard to better. Here’s to a life lived honestly, or, as Isabella might say, #takingoffthemask.

Ruth Leigh is a novelist, blogger and freelance writer based in beautiful East Suffolk. This is her first novel.

Lessons from lockdown

I am delighted to welcome Tony Horsfall back to my blog. He wrote about love and loss in lockdown previously. In this guest post he is considering how we have been changed during the pandemic – and what the Church may need to take away as lessons learned through the difficulties of lockdown.

Last night at our prayer meeting we thought about how church will be different after the pandemic. It’s a question many churches are asking, even agonising over. As we listened to God afterwards, I felt him say, ‘It’s not that church will be different, it’s that you will be different.’

Church will change because hopefully we have changed during this pandemic. Each of us will have been impacted by the pandemic in different ways, but, make no mistake, the pandemic and the experience of lockdown has changed us – hopefully for the better. And those changes will shape the way we think about church and practise ministry once we are free to meet again.

THE CHANGES I HAVE SEEN

This is certainly true for me. I am not the same person going into 2021 as I was at the start of 2020. Life has shaped me and deepened me, and I pray this will show in my ministry. I have been sensitised to grief and loss like never before. I now see both the great need and enormous opportunity to help others on their grief journey, something to which most local churches are oblivious. Will this be part of my ministry going forward, or will my role be to advocate for this group?

Having been the recipient of so much kindness myself, I hope I am a kinder person with a greater empathy for others, seeing something of the image of God in everyone I meet. I have had a brush with death and that causes me to value life and not take it for granted. Every day is precious, to be received as a gift and enjoyed with thankfulness. As a result, I hope I have a better grasp of what is really important, and what is secondary. I feel more open to change than I have ever been, more willing to accept differences in others and see them as a blessing. 

I hope all of this will show in my teaching and my writing. Not many people get the opportunity that I have, to start life again, and I am praying that I will make good choices that will make my later years abundantly fruitful. I don’t simply wish to go back to how things were before – I want to live another adventure with God.

CHANGES WE SHOULD ALL PONDER

Other people will have been impacted differently by the pandemic. Some I know have been involved in delivering food parcels to needy families, developing in them a social conscience. Is this community involvement something that will be carried forward?Feelings of anger at perceived injustices can be a powerful motivating force for change and shape the way Church responds to society. 

Some have seen how technology and media presence can enhance the ministry scope of the local church, giving it access to those who don’t normally attend, and even creating an international audience. How can we maintain and develop this new aspect of ministry?

Yet others will have felt the impact of the pandemic in a deeply personal way, having lost their job or been furloughed. Restricted income has caused a reassessment of priorities and the place of material things. Some have chosen to simplify their lifestyle. Will simplicity become the new normal?

Hopes have been dashed, key events postponed, relationships put on hold. We have felt the pain of separation from loved ones – will it make us value relationships all the more? When church fellowships have not meant for months, will we be drawn closer together going forwards, or drift further apart? Has the opportunity for more time alone helped or hindered our walk with God? Have we deepened our spirituality or simply drifted away?

HOW ARE YOU BEING SHAPED?

I have always felt that the ministry of the local church should be a reflection of the gifts and interests of its members. That way, rather than copying what others are doing, we can authentically be who we are in our expression of Church. This makes local church ministry both sustainable and enjoyable. Church after the pandemic will be different because we are different. Our characters will have changed, new giftings will have emerged, we will feel burdened in different ways than before. Rather than simply getting back to ‘business as usual’ perhaps we can pause and consider if God may want to do a new thing among us.

How do you think you have changed as a person during the pandemic? It is worth stopping to think about this because we don’t want to miss the gift of transformation that God is giving us through these difficult days. Don’t waste your sorrows, griefs, losses, sacrifices, hardships…What has God been forming within you? And how will that shape your service for him in the coming days? How will it be different because you are different? What will be new for you in 2021?

Tony Horsfall is a retreat leader, author and mentor. His latest book is Finding refuge and is available directly from him at tonyhorsfall@uwclub.net

PS If you are walking through grief, or feel you have loss and disappointment you need to process, there is still time to sign up to my online retreat, which is taking place on 23 January.

Love and loss in lockdown

6 Comments

It is my pleasure to introduce Tony Horsfall to my blog today. Tony is a wonderful, wise writer. This year has been particularly difficult for him, and yet he has shared with such honesty not only here, but in his new book (pictured above).

During 2020 the experience of lockdown has impacted all we do, and in particular caring for loved ones who are terminally ill, and grieving those who have passed away.

My wife Evelyn had been struggling with a recurrence of breast cancer for over four years when she was eventually told in February that her condition was terminal, with just months to live. The cancer had spread to her spine and she quickly deteriorated. We tried to care for her at home, but it became increasingly difficult, so she went into the local hospice. Because of visiting restrictions, I was allowed to go and stay with her. After a week she had improved sufficiently to be transferred to a local care home. Again, I decided to go with her – Evelyn in nursing care and myself as a resident – otherwise I would not have been able to see her.

DEALING WITH THE UNEXPECTED

The transition to a care home was a huge shock to the system. It was hot, noisy and full of hustle and bustle. It took us time to adjust, but gradually we got into a routine and had six good weeks together. Evelyn’s condition was deteriorating daily, and it was painful to watch. She needed a hoist to get her out of bed, and was slowly losing control of her bodily functions, which was a huge loss of dignity. We were aware of the risk of coronavirus in such a setting, but it was a risk we had to take.However, we both caught the virus. Surprisingly Evelyn recovered fairly quickly, but my condition worsened and I ended up in intensive care.

As I fought for my life, I thought I would never see Evelyn again. Intensive care was a lonely and frightening place. No visitors allowed; you were on your own. Across the room from me two other patients were on ventilators. I cried to God, ‘Lord, don’t let me have to go on a ventilator.’ A stream of prayer was going up for us, and with this and the medical care, I began to recover and after two weeks was allowed to return home, but not to the care home.

THE PAIN OF SEPARATION

I was physically very weak but what hurt the most was that I could no longer be with Evelyn. We had an occasional phone call, which was far from satisfactory, and soon she began to be confused. One afternoon the home called me because Evelyn was disturbed and wanted to come home. They asked me to reassure her that she was in the right place. Patiently, with tears rolling down my cheeks, I explained to her why we had taken the decision for her to be in care, and she calmed and seemed to understand. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done.

I began to feel guilty that I was at home and recovering while Evelyn was still in the care home and struggling by herself. I could be with our family, and see the grandchildren, but she was denied that pleasure. I felt I had let her down, that I had failed, since my aim had been to be with her to the end. Fortunately, God spoke a word to me: ‘She was mine long before she was yours and I won’t abandon her now’, he said. That lifted my despair, and I began to entrust her to the care of her heavenly Father.

SAYING GOODBYE

After a month of separation, we were allowed into the care home to see her as she neared the end. It was a healing time, even if a painful one. I was able to sit with her, hold her hand, feed her sips of water, give her a little food to eat and pray with her. Slowly she slipped away. Her lasts words were, ‘Thank you Jesus, you led me all the way.’

We held a Thanksgiving for her life over Zoom, which was strange but enabled people from all over the world to take part and mourn her passing. Then we had a service at the graveside, where about 70 attended, socially distanced. It was a moving tribute to her life, which was lived for Christ from a young age.

ADJUSTING TO LIFE ALONE

Grieving has not been easy during lockdown. I have missed seeing friends, being hugged, having the chance to share memories of Evelyn. Just when you most need your friends, they are not able to visit you. I have had to learn how to cook for myself and manage the house and garden. I have found eating alone especially difficult as I adjust to being single. 

Looking back, although it was a traumatic time, I can see how much God helped us. Our story is a story of love, the love we had for each other after 46 years of marriage. But also, the story of God’s love, from which nothing can separate us. Time and again he comforted me through Scripture, worship songs, acts of kindness and amazing provision. It is a story of the love of friends – those who prayed in tears, sent cards and flowers, wrote letters of encouragement, shared our journey. It is also a story of the love of strangers, of those health service professionals who cared for us, showed us kindness, went beyond the call of duty.

Perhaps this is the great gift to the world from the pandemic – the reminder that love is the most important thing of all.

Tony Horsfall is a retreat leader, author and mentor. Finding Refuge tells this story more fully, and is available from the author at tonyhorsfall@uwclub.net

Saying yes to Jesus

I am delighted to welcome Pen Wilcock to my blog today. Her latest book, Into the Heart of Advent, welcomes the reader to join her as she chats to Jesus about all sorts of subjects that perplex her, including homelessness and hospitality, mental health and the challenges of neuro-diversity, as well as poverty. Here she shares with us the first conversation from that book.

I stand in the shop looking indecisively at the cards on display, slowly twirling the revolving rack. I’ve chosen the ones I like, with deer and robins and snow, but I think in all truth I ought to pick out at least a few showing the infant Jesus and his mother. Because that’s what Christmas is all about, right? The nativity, and at the heart of it the Holy Family. The problem is, I don’t like them. Mary looks either demure or mournful, and the baby Jesus stares out reproachfully at our fallen world, raising two fingers in blessing like a miniature boy scout or the youngest member of an extremely secret society.

Someone is standing next to me. I glance over my shoulder not wanting to put pressure upon the patience of another customer ticking off Christmas obligations early. And then I do a double take — “Jesus! Where did you come from? I mean…Hello.” And just like that, there he is again. Himself, who I haven’t seen in ages.

“Stick with the robins,” he suggests. “Those are awful.”

“But, shouldn’t I have at least some nativity ones? Christmas — it’s all about family, isn’t it? Especially your family.”

“My family…” says Jesus: “Look, shall we get out of this shop?”

I pay for the few packs I’m sure I want, shove them into my bag with the TV guide and the oranges, and hurry outside to find him. Then, just like old times, we stroll along the seafront in the wind. 

“This unbreakable connection between family and Christmas comes back to haunt me every year,” I tell him. “I’m divorced, I have a difficult relationship with my step family, and my family of origin — ha! Don’t even go there! There’s nothing like Christmas to rub it all in, that all too familiar ambiance of utter despair. And there are the cards with you as a baby, cradled in Mary’s arms while Joseph stands protectingly beside her.”

Jesus says nothing for a moment, and I glance at him to see his reaction. He grins at me. “Are you even thinking what you’re saying? My mother… reckless prophetess writing protest songs and trying to steer me into her idea of who I should be. My mother conscripting my brothers into getting me sectioned. Joseph thinking best to divorce her before they even began, and introducing his betrothed to his relatives on the night she was due to drop an embarrassingly early baby. Awkward.”

I consider this in silence.

“If there’s one useful take-away from looking at my family,” he adds, “it’s that you just get the hand life deals you. It’s the part you can’t plan, even if you try. Joseph chose cautiously, carefully; he well knew how important it is to find a good wife. He was after a godly woman. But then he got a really godly woman, and that shook his world! Dreams and visions, angels and journeys, soldiers with swords in their hands. He had no idea what he was taking on when he asked Mary to be his wife.”

I stop, turn to face him, pulling my coat closer around me because the wind is so cold. “Then, what — if you could pick out one thing — what would you say Christmas is all about?” 

“Me? My point of view?” He looks at me. “I’d say Christmas is about saying ‘yes’. That’s the one thing Mary and Joseph and I all had in common. Mary said ‘yes’ to the angel, and Joseph — against his own inclination — said ‘yes’ to marrying Mary after all, and I said ‘yes’ to… well, to everything it meant as things unfolded. ‘Yes’ to being here, ‘yes’ to pouring out all my strength to bring healing and hope, ‘yes’ to offering a template for living that’s actually going to work. We said ‘yes’, and that was the thing that brought us together.”

I nod, slowly, taking this in. “That’s what made you family — saying ‘yes’.”

Jesus is never impatient, but I do detect just a tad of frustration in the movement of his hand. “Can we get something clear?” he says. “My family is everyone who says ‘yes’ to life and love. My family isn’t frozen in time back in Nazareth. Anyone who wants can join my family. You are my family, if you want to be. Just bear in mind, when you trace the way things went for Mary and Joseph and me, there is a cost. But isn’t there always, to loving?”

Pen Wilcock writes Christian theology both in the form of fiction and non-fiction. She has worked in hospice, school and prison chaplaincy contexts, and pastored a number of congregations. Her particular focus is Gospel simplicity. She lives very quietly and reclusively in Hastings on England’s south coast. She blogs at Kindred of the Quiet Way.

Learning to remember

3 Comments

I am thrilled to welcome Lauren H. Brandenburg to my blog today. Her latest book, The Marriage of Innis Wilkinson, has recently been published by Lion Hudson and I am part of the blog tour she is doing. Here she shares very honestly about the difficulties she has faced with her family over the years – and what she has learned about the importance of remembering God’s faithfulness.

It amazes me how, when a new hardship arises in my life, I suddenly forget the multitude of answered prayers that blanket my days. Maybe it’s because the answered prayers have become my new normal, a part of my routine. Maybe it’s because I’ve settled into that peace of God’s that surpasses all comprehension. 

‘And the peace of God which surpasses all comprehension will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.’ Philippians 4:7 (NASB)

Or maybe it’s because remembering the source of that answered prayer brings back memories of pain, frustration, anger, and loss…instead of the blessings, the victories, and the string of joys that came out of it all. It seems a difficult balance for me not to dwell on the hardships of my past, exchanging it for the faithfulness of God. When people ask me to share my ‘story’ – those defining hardships that have brought me to where I am – I suddenly delve back into the darkness, the culmination of three separate events that fight to define me.

THE PAIN THAT BROUGHT A CHANGE OF PERSPECTIVE

We have been through a lot as a family. This section of my ‘story’ begins in 2008 when the US economy was leaving people unemployed and homeless. As my husband’s career had him heavily invested in real estate, we became a quick but temporary causality – losing our car, home, and way of life. Within a few months our life of ease was replaced by donated clothes and free food from our church, while I retreated to my closet and cried out to the Lord – “We need a miracle! Please don’t let us lose our home!” 

I prayed for my husband’s broken spirit. I prayed for money. I prayed life would return to normal. I prayed the Lord would take us far away onto the mission field – Nicaragua would work, maybe Mexico – so we could start over away from those who were watching our fall.

Months went by and our normal began to emerge into something new. Instead of shipping ourselves off to a third world country to hide in the name of service to the Lord, we served locally, establishing community dinners for those less fortunate than us, eating alongside them, praying with and for them. We were able to see true poverty, both physical and spiritual. 

We began to change, to see the world a bit differently. It was our miracle, our answered prayer, our return to a new normal that not only changed us socially but spiritually.

And then we moved. Not out of the country, but out of state. It was unexpected but necessary. A chance for what we felt like was the fresh start we had prayed for. But that following spring my father was killed in a bicycling accident on his way home from work. And in my new life, my prayers shifted to prayers for my mother’s pain, for what life would be like now that she was on her own and three hours from our new life. 

The following fall [autumn], my daughter was diagnosed with a brain tumor on the base of her cerebellum. Spinal fluid had been backing up on her brain causing excruciating headaches that had been falsely diagnosed by others in the medical profession. They said she may never walk. They said she may never feed herself. They said it could be cancer. I began to cry out: “God heal my girl! God please don’t take her from me!” 

REMEMBERING TO DWELL ON THE RIGHT THINGS

Those are the sections of my life I so often seem to tell when people ask about my ‘story’, adding in the parts about how we served others during our time of need, how provision was provided over and over, how I watched my mother grow and devote herself to teaching the Bible in her home, and how people all over the world prayed for our girlie, and now she’s 17, drives, is on the volleyball team, and is currently trying to decide where she wants to go to university. 

But when that new hardship arises, as it did last fall when I found myself in the darkness of a depression I could not justify or seem to find my way out of, I couldn’t see the truth or the loveliness in all that was going on around me. Instead, I was allowing comparison and lies to distract me from a life of fullness. 

‘Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.’ Philippians 4:8

One word brought me out of my darkness and placed me back in the confidence of his care: Remember. I had to remember what was true about myself and the string of answered prayers that had led me to the life I was living. I had to remember to dwell on what was lovely – those things that brought me rest, joy, and allowed me to tap into the whimsical person I was created to be. 

And I had to remember that he’s here, in the dark moments, the little moments, the ordinary moments, and in the new moments of my life that are writing the ‘story’ of the now. Every single one of my prayers were answered, not all in the way or in the timeliness that I would have liked. But God heard. And he answered. They were impactful times – the times where my faith was strongest. Yet, life gets mundane and sometimes the biggest concern I have for the day is finishing the laundry or turning in edits. 

When I am outside a season of hardship, it is easy to forget what it was like to be in full dependence. Then, I remember – not my ‘story’ but his victory in both the difficult times in my life and the simple. I remember his story – a story of forgiveness, love, and his promise to go ahead of me. A promise to never fail me or forsake me – even when I forget, he remembers. 

‘The Lord is the one who goes ahead of you; He will be with you. He will not fail you nor forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.’ Deuteronomy 31:8

Lauren H. Brandenburg is a mentor, speaker, and author who happily blurs the lines between traditional genres. She is the author of The Death of Mungo Blackwell and The Marriage of Innis Wilkinson. As a former English teacher, and now homeschooling mum, Lauren combines her love of ‘the what if’ with her spirit of adventure and faith to delight and encourage readers young and old. She lives with her husband, Jamie, and two children in a lovely little town just south of Nashville, Tennessee where they laugh a lot.

The Faith of Poppy Denby (and her creator)

1 Comment

I have been an avid reader (and lover) of Fiona Veitch Smith’s Poppy Denby Investigates novels, so am thrilled to be a part of her blog tour as she celebrates the release of her fifth book, The Art Fiasco. Here she tells us more about the faith journey of her main character, Poppy, as well as her own.

When Poppy Denby (22) arrives in London in 1920 to start work on a newspaper, it is the first time she has moved away from her evangelical community. And she’s in for a bit of a shock. She goes to live with her suffragette aunt, a former doyenne of the West End stage, and gets introduced to an eclectic mix of socialites and socialists. 

Aunt Dot believes in God and drops into the occasional church service, but is not an evangelical Christian. She, like her brother Poppy’s father, was brought up Anglican. Poppy’s father became a Methodist when he met his wife, an earnest evangelical, running a soup kitchen. He becomes a Methodist minister. However, it’s her mother’s strict fundamentalism that has the most influence on Poppy. She spends most of The Jazz Files worrying about what her mother will think of her new lifestyle choices: drinking alcohol, wearing make-up and going to jazz clubs with the totally irreligious Delilah Marconi.

For most of the first two books Poppy is being weaned away from strict evangelical culture. Some people would describe it differently: ‘backsliding’. However, that’s not what I intended to convey. What I hope to show in Poppy’s spiritual journey is that she comes to meet other people of faith who do not have the same views as her mother, and that she learns to separate belief from approved behaviour. She meets people whose faith is expressed through social justice and human kindness, some of whom, like the mentally abused Elizabeth Dorchester, doggedly hang on to God by their fingertips, rather than through puritan standards of morality.

However, Poppy’s faith remains an important part of her life. But all is not peaceful in her heart as she lost her brother in the war. ‘Why did God let him die?’ and ‘why does God allow suffering when he has the power to stop it?’ are questions that claw at her soul. The crisis comes to a head in The Death Beat, where, by the end, she finds some sense of contentment, even though all threads have not been neatly tied up. This is what many of my readers (Christian and non-Christian) say is something they can identify with: Poppy does not have all the answers, and shares many of their doubts.

In The Cairo Brief, she again has a meltdown when she attends a séance. The dire spiritual fears of her youth resurface as she is terrified of opening herself up to the occult and demonic influences. However, she soon discovers the whole thing is a hoax, exploiting the emotions of the bereaved for financial gain. Nonetheless, she is still desperately worried that a photograph of her at the séance might find its way to her mother.

The Poppy Denby Investigates series so far.

Book five, The Art Fiasco, is set two years later. In between the usual murder and mystery, Poppy finally goes home to face her mother. But Poppy has grown as a woman – and as a Christian – since the guilt-ridden days of The Jazz Files. She now firmly rejects her mother’s view that a Christian woman should not work for pay. She believes that what she does as a journalist and amateur detective is just as much ‘God’s work’ as teaching Sunday School and working in soup kitchens. She believes that bringing killers to justice and helping bereaved families discover the truth is worthy work. She no longer cares (as much) what her mother thinks about her lifestyle (which by most standards is still fairly modest). However, she also grows in respect for her mother who, despite her strict views, is portrayed as a woman of compassion, helping young women who have become pregnant out of wedlock. She is respected by the mining community with which she works, despite, in their words, being a ‘bit of a Bible basher’. In turn, Poppy’s mother learns to respect her daughter and her choices – although she’ll never get over her wearing make-up.

What of Poppy’s journey is reflected in my own? 

I went to a C of E primary school in the 1970s and occasionally attended church with my mother, who believed in God but was not overtly religious. I went to my first (and last) Sunday school class on my fourth birthday. When the teacher announced it was one of the other children’s birthday, I stuck my hand up to say it was mine too. In front of the whole class she said, ‘You shouldn’t lie, Fiona, God doesn’t like liars.’ I never went back. 

When I was ten my dad got a job on the mines in South Africa. Soon after we moved there, we were befriended by a deacon in the local Methodist church who asked if he could take my brother and I to church with him. My parents thought this was a good idea. What they didn’t know was that he was a paedophile. I was his victim for over a year – the first incident taking place in the car park of the church while Sunday school went on inside. We moved to another town when I was eleven; my parents never knew about the abuse.

It was when I was eleven that I came to know God myself. The Gideons handed out Bibles at my school; I took mine home, read it and now believe that God spoke to me personally that day. Despite my bad experiences with church people, I came to have a faith of my own. To cut a long story short, for the next 20 years I was involved in a series of fundamentalist and evangelical churches, communities and para-church organisations, some of whom (along with a number of good things) had very strict behavioural codes and cut-and-dried theology about who was ‘in’ and who was ‘out’. It was only in my early 30s that I started to realise that I didn’t have to believe all that to be a follower of Jesus. 

Now, aged 50, I no longer consider myself an evangelical, although I am content being a member of a progressive evangelical Baptist church. The writing of the Poppy Denby books over the last six years has reflected some of that journey. Poppy’s mother is representative of the type of Christianity that I have been weaning myself from. And now, like Poppy, I’m far more content in my faith: God has never let me go; and is more important to me than ever. 

Fiona Veitch Smith is the author of the Poppy Denby Investigates novels, Golden Age-style murder mysteries set in the 1920s (Lion Fiction). The first book, The Jazz Files, was shortlisted for the CWA Historical Dagger, while subsequent books have been shortlisted for the Foreword Review Mystery Novel of the Year and the People’s Book Prize. The latest book, The Art Fiasco, is out now. See www.poppydenby.com for more information on the series.

If you are interested in reading more from Fiona on my site, you can take a look at previous guest blog posts from her here and here and read an interview I did with her after The Jazz Files was published.

Living with dyslexia

2 Comments

I have the huge pleasure of introducing Sarah Grace to my blog. I know her as a confident and caring publisher – it wasn’t until she wrote this guest piece that I discovered she lives with dyslexia. Here, she describes how she manages to do so, and the tools she believes will help us all understand and manage our mental wellbeing more successfully. Before I hand over to her, I just want to remind you that last year for World Mental Health Day I highlighted some other writers who look at mental health in their work, in case you’d like to take another look at that article.

I think it’s wonderful that right in the middle of Dyslexia Awareness Week is World Mental Health Day, because there is such a link between the two. As I talk about in my book, Journey with Grace, dyslexia can lead to extreme anxiety and even suicidal thoughts. 

Recognising our strengths and limitations

Often dyslexia can be undiagnosed and understated. Dyslexics can often feel like we can be tripped up at any hurdle. It is not just ‘b’s’ and ‘d’s’ getting muddled; there are many unseen aspects to it. We may be able to tackle a task one day yet the very next day that same task seems difficult or even impossible. However, when we are honest with ourselves and others about the effects of dyslexia we are able to manage better. Rather than an excuse, owning, recognising and understanding both our limitations and our strengths helps us day to day. 

For example, on difficult days I try not to compare myself to how I am on better days. I have learned to go with what is happening on that day. So, if I am struggling with numbers, I will leave my accounts alone that day if I can, and wait to tackle them on a better day. I might find spelling difficult one day so I will delay writing an important email until I am less tired and see if it comes more easily at another time.

Capturing our thoughts

I have learned not to sweat the small stuff, to slow down and be kinder to myself. I try to see the bigger picture of life. Competing with ourselves and others can make life incredibly hard. We need to ask ourselves: is it thoughts in our head or is there really a competition going on? Making sense of this and letting go of the mental battle can be such a relief, as it is exhausting to keep it going with no resolve. 

I have learned how important it is to recognise the conversations that we have in our minds. We can capture the thoughts by speaking them out, perhaps to a counsellor, or through journaling, in order to see them for what they are and make sense of them. It can be hugely valuable to make ourselves this vulnerable, as it helps us to recognise and acknowledge how damaging the mental battles can be. It also helps us to move away from them. 

Slowing down in order to learn more

Alongside my book, I am publishing a journal called Journal with Grace in order to encourage readers to write down their feelings and emotional reactions in order to see the connections. I have learned that when we take time for ourselves, by slowing down and taking a step back from the business of life, we can see what is actually happening. We are then able to notice our own behaviour, our emotions, reactions, stresses, dreams and desires. 

During lockdown many of us had a chance to slow down, but when life started to open up again anxiety may have crept in. Making time each day to slow down, and be more aware of ourselves, our responses and the particular challenges we are facing that day, helps us to face the fear and understand what is behind it. We can also learn to break down the tasks that feel overwhelming into smaller steps. It is truly a privilege to give ourselves time to know ourselves, in order to face the fears and anxieties that stop us reaching our true selves and calling.

I do hope that Journey with Grace will help you take that time out, be inspired by the stories of transformation and find space to retreat, journal and discover how life can be enjoyed one day at a time.

Sarah Grace is an integrative psychotherapist in private practice and a director at Malcolm Down and Sarah Grace Publishing. Embracing her own life journey with dyslexia, she uses her counselling and coaching skills to work closely with clients, helping them lead a more fulfilling life.

Time to…find a daily practice that heals?

Today I am delighted to welcome Deanna Fletcher to my blog. She is a broadcaster but has also just created a new ‘daily practice movement’ called Know Me. Here she explains why she thinks taking time for regular stillness is so important.

If I told you one simple thing could dramatically reduce your anxiety and self-doubt while also helping you sleep better, would you believe me?

Finding a daily practice that works best in the season of life you’re in isn’t just about taking control of your mental health. It’s also a powerful and biblical way to connect with God on a deeper level, creating space for the Holy Spirit to speak with you in a tangible, personal way.

A spiritual or belief practice is a regular activity undertaken for the specific purpose of cultivating spiritual development. The more you come back to this place of stillness and surrender, the further along the path you’ll move towards your goal; a closer communion and intimacy with God. This type of spiritual path is sometimes referred to as a pilgrimage and, I believe, describes well the journey of discipleship. Spending quality time in His presence and allowing Him to replace negative, fearful thoughts with His loving truth is right on point with Romans 12:2 – to be “inwardly transformed by the Holy Spirit through a total reformation of how you think” (TPT).

There are many reasons you might take up a daily practice. Right now, we are facing an epidemic of poor mental health, increased anxiety and loneliness not just in our country, but around the world. Many families have been confined to small spaces under the coronavirus lockdown and for single people the hardship of isolation – going for months without a physical connection with others – has become lonely to the point of distress.

I came to discover practices like guided meditation when it was desperately needed in my life. Chronic stress had led to clinical burnout, resulting in major life changes and a lengthy recovery process. How I wish I knew then what I know now! Rest isn’t the enemy of productivity, and silence is nothing to be feared – there is strength to be found in these places. In my experience, it requires coming back to places of stillness and prayer to see real, long-term change. According to the Bible, Jesus is our ‘great physician’ (Mark 2:17) and we would never expect an initial appointment with our GP to resolve our issue. No, it requires that we return as a daily ritual to His presence.

So how can we take back the reigns of our spiritual and emotional wellness? 

The befits of habitual meditation have been proven to include better emotional health, a stronger understanding of self, reduced stress and insomnia, increased positive action and kindness towards others, just to name a few. Creating space to engage with something as simple as a guided meditation on a daily basis is good for the mind, will help you to deepen your faith, and bring more joy as you find yourself feeling more connected and less alone.

“But God’s not finished. He’s waiting around to be gracious to you. He’s gathering strength to show mercy to you. God takes the time to do everything right – everything. Those who wait around for him are the lucky ones” (Isaiah 30:18, The Message).

However hectic your schedule may be, it’s well worth making space for uninterrupted stillness. Often, this is exactly what our soul craves. Create an intention today to better serve yourself tomorrow. Consider setting your alarm a few minutes early to take advantage of quiet time in the morning. Small changes make a big difference, and your active choice today may help develop a consistent habit that allows you to start each day with feelings of calm, confidence and connectedness.

Deanna Fletcher is a broadcaster, speaker and founder of the daily practices movement, Know Me. Sign up for helpful articles, devotionals and meditations that will refresh your mind and spirit.