SENSES & FACULTIES
Before the storm!
"You just had to be there!"
A common retort when a re-told humorous story meets with a rather damp reception.
It's all about the experience - seeing, hearing, feeling and the rest.
Why is it that when the 'wind is blowing a gale and the sea is raging that we have to go and witness it - and more than that get as close to the action as we possibly can! To feel the wind, the sea soaking our clothes, the fear of what might happen if the next wave is the 'big one' and the sheer excitement of it all?!
A common retort when a re-told humorous story meets with a rather damp reception.
It's all about the experience - seeing, hearing, feeling and the rest.
Why is it that when the 'wind is blowing a gale and the sea is raging that we have to go and witness it - and more than that get as close to the action as we possibly can! To feel the wind, the sea soaking our clothes, the fear of what might happen if the next wave is the 'big one' and the sheer excitement of it all?!
Sense - appreciation - shared experience - the Bible & history - the Spirit in the moment
I walk into the house and smell the cooking - the Sunday roast or the baking buns! These are good smells to me and I voice my appreciation 'That is smelling good!'. There is also the anticipation of tasting the results in the hear future.
I stand at a beautiful countryside spot, look around at the view and breathe in the fresh air that carries hints of wild flowers, mown hay and the farmyard!
These are my personal experience and are, for me, signs of God's goodness. My appreciation of what is around me - seen, heard, smelt and touched - is my appreciation of God. It is worship in a real and raw way.
It is hard to share this but, in terms of faith, essential to do so. These are my experiences which strengthen my faith, but while they remain only mine they can easily become idolatrous. Other people might appreciate a cooking curry, with all the hints of rich Indian spices, but not me! I find it difficult to appreciate God's goodness in such alien odours, but that is because of my experience, culture and upbringing. So I acknowledge that my experience and faith is partial and that it might be fuller if I can acknowledge what others appreciate from their experience.
The Bible is vital in providing a root for our faith and a 'sounding board' for our current experiences. However, it is not a 'statement of faith' to which we must simply assent if we are to recognise and appreciate God. It is, rather, the history and the story of a people of faith, their experiences with all their challenges, their awareness of God within them, their appreciation and worship and we become a part of that same story. We share their experiences, we share ours and out of this we discover a deeper appreciation of God, a richer faith.
Neither our experiences and likes, or those of which we read in the Bible, are God. God remains 'someone other' toward which our shared experiences and senses lead us.
The human intellect is clearly a gift that we have in differing measures which enables us to make some sense of all this. Where we do not have this gift or it is failing, for whatever reason, it is in the shared experience and response that we depend.
There is also a case to be made for those of us who too easily intellectualise our experience and faith, as I am doing here, to be encouraged to be more aware of our senses, to appreciate more rather than analyse, and be led to God and worship.
Smell the cooking, witness the beauty of creation, share the love, sense hope and find faith.
I walk into the house and smell the cooking - the Sunday roast or the baking buns! These are good smells to me and I voice my appreciation 'That is smelling good!'. There is also the anticipation of tasting the results in the hear future.
I stand at a beautiful countryside spot, look around at the view and breathe in the fresh air that carries hints of wild flowers, mown hay and the farmyard!
These are my personal experience and are, for me, signs of God's goodness. My appreciation of what is around me - seen, heard, smelt and touched - is my appreciation of God. It is worship in a real and raw way.
It is hard to share this but, in terms of faith, essential to do so. These are my experiences which strengthen my faith, but while they remain only mine they can easily become idolatrous. Other people might appreciate a cooking curry, with all the hints of rich Indian spices, but not me! I find it difficult to appreciate God's goodness in such alien odours, but that is because of my experience, culture and upbringing. So I acknowledge that my experience and faith is partial and that it might be fuller if I can acknowledge what others appreciate from their experience.
The Bible is vital in providing a root for our faith and a 'sounding board' for our current experiences. However, it is not a 'statement of faith' to which we must simply assent if we are to recognise and appreciate God. It is, rather, the history and the story of a people of faith, their experiences with all their challenges, their awareness of God within them, their appreciation and worship and we become a part of that same story. We share their experiences, we share ours and out of this we discover a deeper appreciation of God, a richer faith.
Neither our experiences and likes, or those of which we read in the Bible, are God. God remains 'someone other' toward which our shared experiences and senses lead us.
The human intellect is clearly a gift that we have in differing measures which enables us to make some sense of all this. Where we do not have this gift or it is failing, for whatever reason, it is in the shared experience and response that we depend.
There is also a case to be made for those of us who too easily intellectualise our experience and faith, as I am doing here, to be encouraged to be more aware of our senses, to appreciate more rather than analyse, and be led to God and worship.
Smell the cooking, witness the beauty of creation, share the love, sense hope and find faith.
Reflection & Worship
The Generations Project in Solihull works in care homes and has sought to include some activities and sensual experiences in worship events, as well as encouraging memory and some reflection.
For people with dementia it is necessary to encourage the use of the intellect, but also to prepare for the greatest limitations.
Here on the project website are some examples of worship events that have been put into practice. Perhaps the best example is the 2015 Celebrating Summer at The Grove when, as well as reminiscence of sea-side holidays, residents had the smells of sea-weed and sand and the tastes of ice-cream and seaside rock, all leading to appreciation and worship.
The Generations Project in Solihull works in care homes and has sought to include some activities and sensual experiences in worship events, as well as encouraging memory and some reflection.
For people with dementia it is necessary to encourage the use of the intellect, but also to prepare for the greatest limitations.
Here on the project website are some examples of worship events that have been put into practice. Perhaps the best example is the 2015 Celebrating Summer at The Grove when, as well as reminiscence of sea-side holidays, residents had the smells of sea-weed and sand and the tastes of ice-cream and seaside rock, all leading to appreciation and worship.
The Gift of Years
This is a project that began in Alton, Hampshire, but has been taken up more widely now, offering 'Anna Chaplaincy' to care homes and increasingly to individuals in their own homes. A conversation with Debbie Thrower, the Director of the Gift of Years (BRF) - has lead my thoughts around ‘Sensing God’ and the spiritual life of people living with dementia back to the practicalities of local church life.
There are natural similarities between the Generations Project in Solihull and Anna Chaplaincy - but, while Anna Chaplaincy has a heavy focus on liturgical worship, GP has tried to incorporate sensory activities in its worship to a greater extent.
My ‘bee in the bonnet’ was in mind - namely the relationship of chaplaincy to the mission of the local church - so I was again stressing the ethos of the GP as enabling the church that already exists in care homes, rather than ‘taking it in’. In relation to people with dementia this is as important, so we are not viewing a ‘category of people’ who need particular care, but enabling and encouraging individuals in their spiritual lives.
The ‘one-to-one’ nature of ministry to older folk and those in care homes was emphasised between us, which is even clearer in relation to people with dementia - in that ‘when you have met one person with dementia you have met one person with dementia’.
Both because of the use of sensory activity and because BRF also sponsor Messy Church this was part of our conversation. BRF are promoting Messy Church for older people ‘Vintage Messy’.
Reflections
This is a project that began in Alton, Hampshire, but has been taken up more widely now, offering 'Anna Chaplaincy' to care homes and increasingly to individuals in their own homes. A conversation with Debbie Thrower, the Director of the Gift of Years (BRF) - has lead my thoughts around ‘Sensing God’ and the spiritual life of people living with dementia back to the practicalities of local church life.
There are natural similarities between the Generations Project in Solihull and Anna Chaplaincy - but, while Anna Chaplaincy has a heavy focus on liturgical worship, GP has tried to incorporate sensory activities in its worship to a greater extent.
My ‘bee in the bonnet’ was in mind - namely the relationship of chaplaincy to the mission of the local church - so I was again stressing the ethos of the GP as enabling the church that already exists in care homes, rather than ‘taking it in’. In relation to people with dementia this is as important, so we are not viewing a ‘category of people’ who need particular care, but enabling and encouraging individuals in their spiritual lives.
The ‘one-to-one’ nature of ministry to older folk and those in care homes was emphasised between us, which is even clearer in relation to people with dementia - in that ‘when you have met one person with dementia you have met one person with dementia’.
Both because of the use of sensory activity and because BRF also sponsor Messy Church this was part of our conversation. BRF are promoting Messy Church for older people ‘Vintage Messy’.
Reflections
- Need to ensure that what is done with those with dementia particularly in mind is done generally with all. This so that folk are not singled out but also to support the notion of a ‘dementia friendly church’. (concern that guidance to enable churches to be ‘dementia friendly’ tend to identify those with dementia as a distinct group).
- Continuing the development of sensory activity as part of ‘worship’ in care homes, but also creating opportunities in SURC, enabling those who may find the intellectual demands of regular worship to explore faith in different ways.
- Focus on ‘one-to-one’ - seeking how it is that individuals discern God in their lives. This reflected also in each using the ‘language’ of their choice to express their faith.
'“I can feel Your love in this place...”
(Posted on Sojourners website by Cindy Brandt 07-10-2015)
The chorus blasts at full volume, skilfully performed by the worship band on stage. I felt nothing. No matter how many times they repeated the musical phrase, each time with increasing resonance complete with climactic chord changes, I felt nothing. I fiddled around in my purse, fingering my smartphone, waiting for the first appropriate moment to whip it out and scroll.
It hasn’t always been like this for me. I was the teenager on fire for God. I raised my hand at every altar call, giving my life to Jesus in all the ways known to my young self. I sat under John Piper’s fiery teachings at Wheaton College’s World Christian Fellowship nights, where he passionately exhorted us to fulfill the desires of God’s heart, which is to be glorified among all the nations. We belted praise songs at the tops of our lungs, waving our hands wildly as my thumping heart echoed the palpable spirit in the room. I promised, yes Lord, send me, I will go. I have felt God-bumps, ugly-cried Holy Spirit tears, and been stirred to lasting action.
I’m not sure when or how it happened. Perhaps it was when I encountered painful loss in life that the worship songs began ringing hollow to my bleeding heart. Maybe it was when the church’s teachings contributed to the oppression of powerless people that I began flinching while singing certain songs (“His craft and power are great, and armed with cruel hate.”)
Or maybe I simply got bored with praise songs. They are, after all, composed of like, five chords.
But gradually, it happened. Slowly over many years, I stopped feeling inspired by what used to elicit spiritual passion. I had plenty of justification for it. We were under tremendous stress, living cross culturally in a country that wasn’t easy to live in, with young children. Spiritual dryness was not uncommon among missionaries, and I was well aware of this.
I didn’t know it at the time, but intellectually I was undergoing phases of deconstructing my faith. When you are immersed in a religious environment as a child, as I was, growing up requires dealing with childhood baggage that is tied up with a spiritual identity. Each time I encountered beliefs contradicting my spiritual upbringing, I was confronted with dissonance which demanded withdrawing into the default belief system I was taught, or allowing myself to wade through the differences and discerning truth despite antithetical claims. This deconstruction sapped my mental energy. I had to learn to rein in this new tension between faith and doubt.
It’s difficult to maintain a child-like faith when there’s always a small voice taunting, questioning, and challenging. I thought it was the new normal. I thought that this was what it was like to be an adult in the world of faith. Just as real life responsibilities limit the wild dreams we aspired to as imaginative children, I figured as an adult I am not afforded the luxury of ecstatic spiritual experiences. No, my faith, if it was to be maintained, would have to be shaped by critical thinking, gritty discipline, and good old common sense. I even wrote a blog post boringly titled, “Responsible Faith.”
Until one day, years after I had experienced any sort of spiritual euphoria, something happened that was meaningful to me in the 30s that would never have been in my 20s. My heart skipped a beat, and I excitedly shared the news with my family. That evening, I stepped into the shower, the first moment I have had to be alone all day, and I crumpled into a heap of sobbing tears. As the warm water rained on me, my tears overflowing, I caught a taste of a God moment, reminiscent of my youthful passion.
I finished showering, got dressed and stated matter of factly to my husband, “I bawled in the shower. It was a God moment.”
I didn’t theologize or ultra-spiritualize it, or question whether it was God or just my brain relaxing in the shower at the end of the day resulting in me releasing tension through a good cry. I just knew it happened, and went about my evening.
What I am learning is that the new normal is not that I no longer experience God, but that God is meeting me in new ways. The new normal is that I don’t need to hear people play guitar telling me to feel God’s love from a stage. I find God’s love in much less conspicuous places, from the stranger behind me who felt too awkward to shake my hand, to the silly doodles my kids were making on the church bulletin. The new normal is that I no longer find authority in celebrity pastors preaching at me, but I do find it listening to unheard voices of small bloggers and older people who aren’t social media savvy.
The new normal is that I hear the "Roman Road" gospel preached and find it dull and superficial, and yet feel overwhelming conviction in the cross lived out by people who forgive their enemies.
The new normal is that although God has not changed, I have changed. And like a parent who stops cooing in baby talk, God is starting to speak in new, fresh ways to me.
And now I have had a few tastes of God moments, and even when they are few and far between, they are authentic, profound, and unprompted. I am waiting in delicious anticipation for where and when it might come upon me next.
My reflection on the experience of Cindy:
It is the experience of all of us that God speaks to us in a variety of ways and that at different times of life God's voice will remain important to us, even if communicated differently. This is not to say that 'we got it wrong before', but rather that God uses our life-experiences and, as long as we remain open to him, continues to build a relationship with us.
It is also true that for all of us God will speak at times that are often unexpected. It rather puts the dampener on the 'church experience', but we cannot engineer encounters with God, but simply need to remain open.
It is interesting that the sensory experience of worship songs came to mean less and less for Cindy, but her 'God moment' came in the midst of daily life and, in particular, her need.
From this I wonder if, more than on the mountain top or enjoying a tasty meal or smelling the sweetest fragrance or hearing a warm harmony, we might sense God most in suffering and pain and in the promise of release?
(Posted on Sojourners website by Cindy Brandt 07-10-2015)
The chorus blasts at full volume, skilfully performed by the worship band on stage. I felt nothing. No matter how many times they repeated the musical phrase, each time with increasing resonance complete with climactic chord changes, I felt nothing. I fiddled around in my purse, fingering my smartphone, waiting for the first appropriate moment to whip it out and scroll.
It hasn’t always been like this for me. I was the teenager on fire for God. I raised my hand at every altar call, giving my life to Jesus in all the ways known to my young self. I sat under John Piper’s fiery teachings at Wheaton College’s World Christian Fellowship nights, where he passionately exhorted us to fulfill the desires of God’s heart, which is to be glorified among all the nations. We belted praise songs at the tops of our lungs, waving our hands wildly as my thumping heart echoed the palpable spirit in the room. I promised, yes Lord, send me, I will go. I have felt God-bumps, ugly-cried Holy Spirit tears, and been stirred to lasting action.
I’m not sure when or how it happened. Perhaps it was when I encountered painful loss in life that the worship songs began ringing hollow to my bleeding heart. Maybe it was when the church’s teachings contributed to the oppression of powerless people that I began flinching while singing certain songs (“His craft and power are great, and armed with cruel hate.”)
Or maybe I simply got bored with praise songs. They are, after all, composed of like, five chords.
But gradually, it happened. Slowly over many years, I stopped feeling inspired by what used to elicit spiritual passion. I had plenty of justification for it. We were under tremendous stress, living cross culturally in a country that wasn’t easy to live in, with young children. Spiritual dryness was not uncommon among missionaries, and I was well aware of this.
I didn’t know it at the time, but intellectually I was undergoing phases of deconstructing my faith. When you are immersed in a religious environment as a child, as I was, growing up requires dealing with childhood baggage that is tied up with a spiritual identity. Each time I encountered beliefs contradicting my spiritual upbringing, I was confronted with dissonance which demanded withdrawing into the default belief system I was taught, or allowing myself to wade through the differences and discerning truth despite antithetical claims. This deconstruction sapped my mental energy. I had to learn to rein in this new tension between faith and doubt.
It’s difficult to maintain a child-like faith when there’s always a small voice taunting, questioning, and challenging. I thought it was the new normal. I thought that this was what it was like to be an adult in the world of faith. Just as real life responsibilities limit the wild dreams we aspired to as imaginative children, I figured as an adult I am not afforded the luxury of ecstatic spiritual experiences. No, my faith, if it was to be maintained, would have to be shaped by critical thinking, gritty discipline, and good old common sense. I even wrote a blog post boringly titled, “Responsible Faith.”
Until one day, years after I had experienced any sort of spiritual euphoria, something happened that was meaningful to me in the 30s that would never have been in my 20s. My heart skipped a beat, and I excitedly shared the news with my family. That evening, I stepped into the shower, the first moment I have had to be alone all day, and I crumpled into a heap of sobbing tears. As the warm water rained on me, my tears overflowing, I caught a taste of a God moment, reminiscent of my youthful passion.
I finished showering, got dressed and stated matter of factly to my husband, “I bawled in the shower. It was a God moment.”
I didn’t theologize or ultra-spiritualize it, or question whether it was God or just my brain relaxing in the shower at the end of the day resulting in me releasing tension through a good cry. I just knew it happened, and went about my evening.
What I am learning is that the new normal is not that I no longer experience God, but that God is meeting me in new ways. The new normal is that I don’t need to hear people play guitar telling me to feel God’s love from a stage. I find God’s love in much less conspicuous places, from the stranger behind me who felt too awkward to shake my hand, to the silly doodles my kids were making on the church bulletin. The new normal is that I no longer find authority in celebrity pastors preaching at me, but I do find it listening to unheard voices of small bloggers and older people who aren’t social media savvy.
The new normal is that I hear the "Roman Road" gospel preached and find it dull and superficial, and yet feel overwhelming conviction in the cross lived out by people who forgive their enemies.
The new normal is that although God has not changed, I have changed. And like a parent who stops cooing in baby talk, God is starting to speak in new, fresh ways to me.
And now I have had a few tastes of God moments, and even when they are few and far between, they are authentic, profound, and unprompted. I am waiting in delicious anticipation for where and when it might come upon me next.
My reflection on the experience of Cindy:
It is the experience of all of us that God speaks to us in a variety of ways and that at different times of life God's voice will remain important to us, even if communicated differently. This is not to say that 'we got it wrong before', but rather that God uses our life-experiences and, as long as we remain open to him, continues to build a relationship with us.
It is also true that for all of us God will speak at times that are often unexpected. It rather puts the dampener on the 'church experience', but we cannot engineer encounters with God, but simply need to remain open.
It is interesting that the sensory experience of worship songs came to mean less and less for Cindy, but her 'God moment' came in the midst of daily life and, in particular, her need.
From this I wonder if, more than on the mountain top or enjoying a tasty meal or smelling the sweetest fragrance or hearing a warm harmony, we might sense God most in suffering and pain and in the promise of release?