 English translation of a short talk I delivered at a Prayers for Peace meeting in Germany this evening: As many of you will know, Martin Luther King was a Baptist minister, civil rights leader and peace activist in the USA. He believed passionately that Jesus Christ provides us with an ethical vision for human relationships characterised by love, justice and peace. He also believed that Mahatma Gandhi in India provided us with a blueprint for how to outwork this in practice at national and international levels. At the heart of Martin Luther King’s approach, like that of Gandhi before him, was the principle of nonviolence. This was very different to passivity, acceptance or inaction. It called for active and determined resistance against oppression, injustice and war. At the same time, it sought to win over the other side and not to defeat them. This means that we should only use peaceful methods and should never retaliate. We can see how this idea is rooted deeply in Biblical teaching. For instance (as we looked at recently), Jesus tells us to love our enemies. Paul tells us that if our enemies are hungry, to feed them and if they are thirsty, to give them something to drink. He tells us to overcome evil with good and that, by treating our enemies in the same way that God treats us – with love, compassion and forgiveness – it may evoke a change of heart. It’s a stark contrast to so much of what we see in the world today. For instance, social media often polarises opinions and very quickly divides the world into ‘us’ – those who are like us and agree with us – and ‘them’ – those who aren’t and don’t. We may believe we are good and right, and those on the other side are bad and wrong. Once we begin to see the world in this way, it’s only a short step until we start to regard others as the ‘enemy’. We see the same happening on the world stage too. Nations and geopolitical power blocs are asserting themselves against others, and the ‘others’ are rapidly strengthening their stances in response. This is leading to increasingly aggressive posturing, self-interested trade wars and the most expensive and terrifying arms race we have seen since the height of the cold war. It’s the absolute opposite of what Jesus calls us to do. When mutual grievances, resentments and pain become entrenched over time – such as those between Israel and Palestine, USA and Iran or Russia and Ukraine – it gets harder and harder for each side to imagine the other side’s experience and point of view – and harder still to feel any sense of empathy for them. Each blames the other for their own suffering and sees the other as the enemy that must pay the price, or be destroyed. Martin Luther King saw this in his own personal struggle as a black person. At first, he viewed white people as the enemy but began to realise that to see and treat someone in this way diminishes our own humanity as well as theirs. So, he chose nonviolence instead, believing that white people needed to be released from the dehumanising effects of oppression as well as black people. He prayed for ‘strength to love’. As we pray this evening for people caught up in conflict and war, I hope we can pray with compassion for people on all sides – that they will be released from all hate, hurt and revenge. It’s not easy…yet I believe God can do far more than we can ask or imagine. Let us pray for ourselves too, to find the strength to forgive anyone who has caused us stress, anxiety or pain – even when reconciliation feels impossible. As Martin Luther King so insightfully observed, ‘Our own liberation is bound up with theirs.’
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 ‘Only in quiet waters do things mirror themselves undistorted. Only in a quiet mind is an adequate perception of the world.’ (Hans Margolius) There are many different ways to ground ourselves. It's a bit like anchoring myself so that I don’t lose my footing completely when buffeted by the winds and waves of life. It enables me to flex and flow adaptively and resiliently without snapping. Jesus Christ in the Bible contrasts building a house on rock vs a house on sand. It’s a vivid metaphor that illustrates a similar principle. Some people find rituals grounding. I like to start the day by having a shower to wake up, then light a candle, then sit quietly and listen contemplatively to, say, Pange Lingua Gloriosi or Jesu Dulcis Memoria. It feels like making space to breathe, to reach gently towards God, to feel his Presence within and around me. It’s a kind of prayer that calms, opens and enables me to pray. Before any kind of interaction at work – whether an email, phone call, meeting, coaching session or training event, I try to set aside time to focus and to ground myself in three core practices: prayer, presence and participation. It helps me to enter the spiritual state I hope for and, at best, to handle whatever happens from a relationally-rooted rather than reactive place. I do still get knocked sideways from time to time, especially if something happens out of the blue that clashes deeply with my own values or evokes anxiety or stress. The call for me in such situations is to return to grounding myself in God. Other methods I find helpful include focused breathing, riding a motorcycle, wandering in nature or walking with the poor. What helps you? Do you want help with grounding yourself? Get in touch!  I once went on silent retreat at Easter. Early in the morning at chapel, the leader simply played this short video on a huge screen with the volume turned up loud. He didn’t introduce it, he didn’t explain it… I felt like I was in a state of shock for the whole day. It captures so beautifully and so painfully the tragedy of the cross.  English translation of a short talk I delivered at a Prayers for Peace meeting in Germany this week: What a week. Peter Hegseth, the US Minister of War, declared brazenly that “We negotiate with bombs”, then prayed at the Pentagon for “overwhelming violence of action against those who deserve no mercy” – “in the name of Jesus Christ.” I’m not sure which version of the Bible he is reading but something very seriously seems to have been lost or omitted in translation. Some Christian friends, Ian and Samantha, used to drive around in the UK in a VW Campervan with a sticker emblazoned across the back window that asked: “Who would Jesus bomb?” It was a satirical question yet begged the more thoughtful response: “Nobody.” Violence and bombing – in Jesus’ name – is a cynical political distortion and a total contradiction in terms. So, to the real Jesus now. (The one we see portrayed here in the crucifix at the front of this church). This is the Jesus who sacrificed his own life…listen carefully to this…for whom the writer Paul describes in the Bible as “God’s enemies”. We can imagine Hegseth squirming squeamishly at this news: “No! This is all wrong!” Yet Jesus calls us, as disciples, to follow his example. Jesus spoke very directly about this: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you." It is (paraphrased) in the Lord’s prayer too: “Forgive us when we behave like an enemy, in the same way we forgive others who behave like enemies towards us.” Paul reiterates this ethic when he says: “Do not repay evil for evil.” I find this really challenging. It recognises there are others we may rightly regard as enemies, and who will regard us as enemies too. The Bible doesn’t shy away from that. Yet it calls us beyond forgiveness – to love. Does that mean to love Putin? To love the Islamist regime in Iran? (To love the warmongering Hegseth too?). It seems to push hard against all sense of justice. Difficult as it is to say this, I believe Jesus would answer with an unequivocal “Yes.” Love is God’s antidote to hate and the only true means of hope. Whoever we regard to be on “the other side”, on “the wrong side” – we are called to pray for them. Forgiveness and love hold out open hands and open hearts, even when it feels humanly impossible to do so. May God help us do it.  English translation of a short talk I delivered at a Prayers for Peace meeting in Germany last night: A few years ago, a colleague in the UK, Rick James, was the keynote speaker at a forum for international development experts from around the world. Rick is a follower of Jesus and is widely respected in this arena for his own work in many different countries, especially in those that are poor. As the participants waited eagerly to hear his words of knowledge, wisdom and expertise, Rick sat quietly for a moment then said, unexpectedly, ‘There is so much I don’t understand.’ What an astonishing opening for a presentation. It demonstrated deep humility in the face of a complex world in which so much is truly beyond human comprehension. As we look at the news today, for instance, in spite of our prayers for 4 years, the world seems to be getting worse. Who could have imagined a month ago that the USA and Israel would attack Iran? Who could have imagined that, as a consequence, Russia is now even stronger than before to attack Ukraine? This may test our faith and challenge our hope. Some of you may have heard of Henri Nouwen, the Dutch priest who wrote an array of books about spirituality and Christian living. In one of his texts, he advised that, when faced with such painful questions, we should avoid the temptation of offering or accepting simple or easy answers. Instead, he advised that such questions should be raised and faced with honesty. Sometimes this will mean being present yet silent before God and one-another – like here this evening. His guidance reminds me of another priest, Iain Matthew, who is from the UK and lives in Spain. Iain offers profound reflections on the biblical account where Jesus is at a wedding in Cana and the host runs out of wine. It’s a painfully embarrassing situation for the host and we can imagine how, if we were there as his guests, we might try quickly to hide it, reassure him or find a solution. We might also call on Jesus to do what we think is best, what we think is needed to fix it. Yet here is Mary now. 'She perceives the need and names it, ‘They have no wine’ – without prescribing a solution. She takes it, holds it, and allows it to ache before Jesus.' Iain suggests this may be, at times, a pattern for prayer, 'to feel our way to a wound that is in us (perhaps a hurt or disappointment that our prayers seem unanswered), to go the place of our need.' He suggests, 'Go there, name it and hold it before Christ.' In doing so, we offer our doubts, confusion and fears to God. He then goes further, inviting us 'to feel our way to the wounds in this world, to those people or situations in dire need of help or healing. To go there, take them, name them, and hold them before Jesus. To go there, not to dictate to Christ what the answer should be or what he should do about it, but to hold the wound before him.' This is prayerful advocacy. We play our part by presenting our concerns and hopes before God in trust, and Jesus is Lord – the wisdom of God and the power of God.  ‘If you don’t risk anything, you risk even more.’ (Erica Jong) I ran a vision and team development day yesterday for a group of inspiring Christian leaders. Their chosen venue was a football stadium (a new experience) that looked quite breathtaking for someone like me who doesn’t know the first thing about the sport. We grounded the day in a specific spiritual account, then used Appreciative Inquiry to discover, dream, design and decide in relation to it. One of the themes that emerged was, in a social and geopolitical context marked by increasing anxiety, how to avoid manifesting an anxious presence too. After all, the leaders in the group are working in the same contexts and subject to some of the same stresses and dynamics as people living in their wider communities. I was reminded of BANI – brittle, anxious, non-linear and incomprehensible. I glanced out of the window and noticed emblazoned above the stands, ‘Our Loving Devotion Guides our Livelong Dream’ and, beneath that, four short banners that repeated one simple message: 'Fear Nothing. Fear Nothing. Fear Nothing. Fear Nothing.' Love is an antidote to fear. One participant said: ‘What am I willing to do, that others may know they are loved by God?’ That's a courageous question.  ‘When seeing is not believing.’ (Rob Toews) While Hurricane Melissa was wreaking real and devastating havoc in the Caribbean yesterday, reports of an incoming super-typhoon wreaked havoc of a different kind in the Asia Pacific. Deep fake news reports triggered disaster risk reduction measures, people raced out to panic buy emergency supplies and the prices of essential goods soared, hitting the poorest the hardest. The government’s meteorological authorities sent out urgent counter-messages to reassure a very nervous public – but who could know which messages were real and which were fake? This felt like a dark glimpse into an AI-generated future. Let’s be honest. Media news reports have always contained subtle (and some not-so-subtle) blends of information, drama and propaganda, but global politicians, social media and deep fake technologies in malicious hands have created a whole new era of confusion. How can we know what’s real and true when fake masquerades as truth and truth is framed as lies? Aspiring dictators create and seize on mass bewilderment and anxiety to offer simplistic solutions with claimed-clarity and security. As I reflect on this critically and reflexively, I can’t help but do some personal soul-searching too. How far is the persona I present, for example as a follower of Jesus, genuine and true? Jesus himself called out spiritual leaders of the time as hypocrites (literally, those who wear a mask), of hiding their true selves behind a façade to win approval. They had fallen into an elaborate form of deception, a self-destructive self-deception, akin to imposter syndrome in reverse. If we believe our own lies, what hope is left for us? God, help me be an authentic agent of truth.  ‘Charisma is the fragrance of soul. Seduce yourself first. Pursuing your passions makes you more interesting, and interesting people are enchanting.’ (Toba Beta, Kamand Kojouri & Guy Kawasaki) I’ve watched and listened to various UK political leaders during the current party conference season and I’ve been struck by marked differences in presence and style. Some have commented that, for instance, Nigel Farage has an inspiring and engaging charisma whereas Keir Starmer talks down to people like a robotic technocrat. That said, both party leaders attract and repel different constituencies of the wider public – which makes me wonder if charisma, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. I remember working with an international non-governmental organisation (INGO) that had a very inspiring CEO. At that time, the same organisation was working hard to identify leadership competencies that could be developed or replicated globally. I really struggled with that project. There was something intrinsic to the CEO as a unique individual that had such a compelling influence and impact. Yes, I could well try to emulate some of his skills and techniques – but I still wouldn’t be him. A friend in Germany illustrated a similar principle yesterday by holding up a glass vase. He could drop it on the floor so that it would smash into lots of pieces, yet there’s something about the object as a whole that is more than the sum of those broken shards. Charisma, like the beauty of the vase, is something that can feel mysterious, beyond rational or technical analysis, both in intrinsic quality and its effects on others. In biblical language, it’s a gift from the Spirit – but it can also be a derailer.  ‘Modern toleration is really a tyranny. It is a tyranny because it is a silence.’ (G.K. Chesterton) At the end of this week’s Christian leadership retreat which drew on Action Learning at its core, I was struck by one participant’s feedback that, ‘This was the first time I’ve experienced authentic community.’ We had opened the event with trust-building activities, getting to know and understand one another as different people before introducing and practising Action Learning techniques. We also chose our own ground rules from the outset. The retreat was interspersed with times of prayer, biblical reflection and sharing of meals together. This reflection on community struck me as significant because it says something profound about what happened within the group, and is also a comment on outside-of the group. The participants were from very diverse personal and professional backgrounds, thrashed through some pretty tough issues together with honesty and care – and found this experience unique. It contrasted starkly with superficial conversations elsewhere, or with experiences of diversity that have resulted in avoiding, ‘othering’, polarisation, tension or conflict. I arrived home last night to hear the news on TV of a public activist’s murder, apparently by someone who didn’t agree with his views and influence. Then, today, I watched a huge protest crowd in London clash with a smaller group of counter-protestors, with embattled police holding the sides apart. It felt symptomatic of people, groups and societies that have lost their willingness and ability to tolerate difference, to tolerate truth, and to hold rigorous debates without feeling the need to silence with a bullet or with an arrest for free speech.  'We don't get to choose how we come into this world - but God gives the freedom to choose how we live in it.' (Frances Cabrini) The end of a year and start of a new one marks a transition point in the calendar and, at times, in our own lives too. It’s an opportunity to look back, re-evaluate, learn and make choices before casting our eyes forward to take next steps in a future direction. I find the best way I can do this is by taking time away from day-to-day distractions in silence, to sit before God and before myself, as if looking into a mirror long and hard to face whatever may surface into awareness. This kind of reflective examination sometimes helps me to avoid falling into repeating patterns of thought and action, often based more on habitual routines than on conscious decisions. Part of the challenge we may encounter is self-deception; made more difficult by subconscious projection (that is, framing others in ways that distort reality) and introjection (that is, framing ourselves in ways that distort reality). The subconscious part means we do it without being aware that we’re doing it. It’s a kind of fooling ourselves about fooling ourselves – a double bind, if you like. There’s a risk, on the one hand, that we believe what we want to believe – which is a way of defending ourselves from anxiety, confusion or stress – or, on the other, we believe what we fear most – which is a sign, driver and consequence of anxiety. And both without knowing it. So how can we get past this? I try a number of strategies. On the foundational hope, purpose and ethics front, I reflect prayerfully on the Bible and on other spiritual resources. On the professional development front, including to address my own hidden assumptions and risks of avoidance, I employ a talented coach who’s high in stimulus and in challenge. On the fresh thinking front, I network, read articles and write blogs to share and invite insights and ideas with and from others. On the international front, I work cross-culturally and, on occasion, visit other places and cultures. Taken as a whole, these approaches help me to stay, as well as I can, at the edge of my calling. |
Nick WrightI'm a psychological coach, trainer and OD consultant. Curious to discover how can I help you? Get in touch! 
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