 ‘Our own species is synonymous with screwing up.’ (Kathryn Schulz) Nigel Farage mocked the EU Parliament after the controversial Brexit referendum result: ‘When I came here 17 years ago and I said I wanted to lead a campaign to get Britain to leave the European Union, you all laughed at me. Well, I have to say, you're not laughing now, are you?’ Margaret Thatcher laughed dismissively too in the UK Parliament when members of her own Government suggested that Nelson Mandela may become a major figure after imprisonment. Mandela later became one of the most internationally-admired leaders of the 20th century. Jesus Christ also met with laughter when he claimed that a young girl who had died was ‘sleeping’. The crowd jeered sarcastically yet Jesus took the girl’s hand, spoke to her – and restored her life. Matthew Henry commented: 'They would never again laugh at any word of his.' We can see a pattern appear. The mistakes weren't simple stupidity. People extrapolated from the world they knew. They assumed current ‘realities’ (e.g. politics, economics, cultural beliefs, Divine activity) would stay fixed. History changes when assumed constraints disappear.
9 Comments
 ‘Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.’ (John Keats) Earlier this year, I had the privilege of doing some Action Learning training work in Georgia and, while there, I visited an Orthodox Christian church in Tbilisi. It was a new experience for me. The building inside was beautifully-decorated throughout with brightly-colourful paintings of Jesus and other key figures on the walls and ceilings. There were lit candles in various places too and (strangely, for me) there were no chairs except for a couple of seats near the door. The experience inside felt alien yet familiar and, somehow, deeply inspiring. On return to the UK, I stumbled across some recordings of an Orthodox priest in Georgia, singing with others in Aramaic (the language that Jesus spoke). The mood and tone of the songs felt evocative and mysterious and it prompted me to buy a copy of a short book on Orthodox Christianity to learn more about this expression of my own Christian faith from a very different culture. It struck me again how I’m attracted to difference; intrigued by new people, insights and ideas that lay outside of my existing awareness. It is, at times, the adrenaline rush of a novel experience, a fresh discovery, a revealing realisation, that makes me feel most alive. It’s also the excitement of a creative-dialectical dynamic; that is, a synergy of people, insights and ideas from diverse worlds that – just like in Action Learning – call something new into being.  ‘Above all, try something.’ (Franklin D. Roosevelt) Trilemma is a new word for me. It means to face a situation where we must decide between three desirable (or undesirable) and mutually-exclusive options. Some call it an ‘impossible trinity’ where, at most, we can (or must) choose only two of the three options and, thereby, must (at least from that perspective) give up on the third. I sometimes see this when working with Christian leaders who feel caught in an ambiguous ethical choice between, say, exercising personal agency vs showing respect to others vs trusting God to act. ‘Should I seize the initiative (agency)…or wait first to see what actions others may take (respect)…or pray instead to see what God will do (trust)?’ Ignatius of Loyola offered some partial advice to help resolve this: ‘Pray as if everything depends on God – and act as if everything depends on you.’ Oliver Cromwell offered similar guidance to his troops when crossing a river to face an enemy: ‘Trust God – and keep you (gun)powder dry.’ I wonder if a tetralemma may be a useful tool here too. Future Learn published an interesting, practical case example of a trilemma when discussing the potential trade-offs of policy goals to address drugs, peace and development. It demonstrates an interdependence of sorts between intersecting issues, so that addressing one or two may have unintended consequences for the third. When have you faced a trilemma? What did you do to resolve it?  ‘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!  ‘To Christians, Easter marks a miracle so vast as to be indescribable: the entry of the Creator into his own universe, the irruption of the timeless into time, for the purpose of saving the human race by suffering an excruciating death. To non-Christians, the magnitude of that claim seems not so much far-fetched as deranged.’ (Daniel Hannan) I guess that places me squarely among the deranged, firmly in the midst of those who dare to believe. I was inspired by Jasmin’s account this evening of how Christians in the Philippines mark and celebrate the transition from Good Friday (which represents the day on which Jesus was executed) to Easter Sunday (the day on which he was resurrected, i.e. rose back to life). On the Saturday evening in-between, they meet in total darkness (which represents death) to pray and hear readings from the Bible. At midnight, suddenly, they ignite a fire (which represents new life). The fire blazes brightly in the deep darkness and each person lights a candle from its incandescent flames. This creates a profound image and experience of a community of light. This ritual is a dramatic re-enactment of a spiritual transition, not just in Jesus’ experience but in today's experience too. I remember vividly when, at age 21, my own faith suddenly burst into flames. It felt like being filled with a strange energy, a dazzling, blazing light that completely transformed every dimension of my life, purpose and future. Deranged? Maybe. I dare to believe.  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 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.  ‘Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds.’ (George Eliot) Mike is a role model of vision, compassion and integrity. I’ve rarely met anyone like him. In fact, he’s one of the most amazing leaders, line-managers, I’ve ever had the privilege of working with. It was all the more heartbreaking, therefore, to see him treated disrespectfully by an executive team and dismissed (in my view) unjustifiably from post. This was some years ago now yet I still feel a wince of pain whenever I remember it. At the time, I asked Mike how he managed to handle himself so honourably in the face of such harsh opposition. He replied simply that he had been reading the account of Joseph in the Bible and had concluded that, ‘They can take your job, they can take your income, but they can never take your integrity. That’s only yours to give. Remember, Nick – whatever happens in life, guard your integrity.’ Wow. Such courage under fire. The day of Mike’s leaving arrived and people crowded into the staff room to say goodbye to this man that so many had held in high esteem. The executive team stood at the side with their backs to the wall, looking tense and nervous. What might Mike say? Could it kick off a riot? Mike looked around the room, smiled gently and said, ‘The executive team are ordinary people who carry extraordinary responsibilities. Pray for them.’ It was absolutely astonishing. People looked at each other quizzically around the room, and the executives breathed a (somewhat surprised) sigh of relief. Mike said those words with such incredible empathy and kindness. Not a hint of resentment or revenge. Mike’s wife had joined him for the leaving do and they closed by standing in the centre of the room together, holding hands, and sang a gospel song about trusting in Jesus.  ‘Christianism: A crude political ideology and the triumph of empty symbolism.’ (Ben Ryan)
The UK has spent decades sleepwalking toward secularism, where faith has been driven relentlessly into the personal-private sphere. Now we're waking up to something very different. A muscular version of Christianity is re-emerging, not as a spiritual faith but as a political identity. It’s a re‑branding of national belonging where being 'British' feels increasingly identified with being ‘Christian’. I'm not talking about the gospel of Jesus Christ or about spiritual renewal here. I am talking about identity politics. It’s about casting Christianity as a default badge of belonging and using that badge to redraw the boundaries of who counts as ‘us’ vs ‘them’. Anxiety and frustration are fuelling that shift in the face of mass migration, cultural disruption and a fear that who ‘we’ are is slipping away. ‘Christian’ is being used increasingly as a political brand. Once any religion becomes a marker of national or cultural identity, it becomes a de facto test of belonging. Tests always leave people, the ‘others’, outside. It chips away at the humility and compassion that are, for followers of Jesus, core to their lives. Religion becomes less about conscience or community and more about raw power. For Christians who believe authentic faith should question power, who see gospel values as both universal and counter‑cultural, the appropriation of Christianity into nationalism feels like a dangerous distortion. Jesus said, ‘Love your enemies’ (which suggests there are those we may rightly regard as enemies). True faith lays in reaching out in love – not in alienation or conquest.  ‘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. |
Nick WrightI'm a psychological coach, trainer and OD consultant. Curious to discover how can I help you? Get in touch! 
Like what you read? Simply enter your email address below to receive regular blog updates!
|
RSS Feed