Clinging to the Real Treasures
of Life
By Anne Perry
I have to start this month
by thanking the people who were generous enough to write
and tell me of the pleasure or encouragement they received
reading my previous letters. The value of such kindness
is enormous. Now I feel as if every bottle is on an ocean
surrounded by friendly shores, and I could not possibly
be less alone. Perhaps, if we only knew it, we are none
of us as alone as sometimes we imagine.
Of course these are troubles
that are best borne in silence. It is both a dignity and
a kindness to others to do so. But there are also feelings
which are easier when we know that others experience just
the same as we do. Other people’s victories over trials
help us to endure those trials well, and there are losses
or failures which seem lighter when we realize that others
understand because they, or someone they love, have done
close to the same. On occasion we do not know how much
goodwill there is in the world, simply because it has not
been spoken aloud.
Again, thank you for your time
and care.
It has been a terrific month
since I last wrote. The weather forecasters kept telling
us that it was going to be the hardest winter in at least
twenty years. Desperate cold was spoken of, and deep, imprisoning
snow. I grieve that many in Europe have had exactly that.
The reports from Russian cities has been fearful, and we
all know that in China thousands of people are homeless
because their houses have collapsed under the weight of
the fall.
Here in Britain we have a problem
— according to the newspapers — the worst drought in a hundred
years! (I am actually starting this letter in Yorkshire)
In Scotland, Portmahomack to be precise, we have not had
snow since Christmas Day 2004! Not a sign of it this winter,
and only that single day last time. We have had some fairly
deep frosts, three or four degrees or more, but crystal
clear days, and nights burning with stars so low and huge
you feel as if you could reach out and gather them in your
hands.
It is mid-February and most
days it has not even reached freezing. Many have been in
the fifties Fahrenheit. The sheer beauty of it bewitches
me. I look out of the window over green garden to sapphire
blue sea and blue sky. The birds are confused and my last
rose (they flower June to December usually) has just fallen.
My neighbour’s daffodils are starting to bloom.
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The first Sunday in February
we took a long drive in the afternoon, away up into the
hills. The land is full of colour, dark gold of stubble
fields, darker still of bracken, green of new grass, shades
too subtle and strange to name exactly, but between purple
and plum and grey. The bare trees are delicate as filigree,
but in many places the golden gorse is in flower (usually
at its best in May). We could see forever from the heights,
way out over the long inlets of the sea, sun bright on the
water, mountains beyond mountains in the distance in every
direction.
Towards sunset the veils of
mist softened the valleys and made the hills seem to float.
The sea turned silver, then turquoise as we came closer
to it. The hills were golden. Then as the last light burned
hotter and the sky filled with fire of red and pink and
flame, the stubble fields turned pink, and the horizon to
the north was lilac. Dusk lengthened the shadows and the
sickle moon arose.
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That is not an exaggeration.
It was so beautiful it had a strange kind of glory, and
pain at the same time. If you were to take away the stupid,
greedy and destructive things that mankind has done to it,
what in the whole of creation could be more passionately,
exquisitely beautiful than this earth? Is it not worth
anything we can do to love it, preserve it, and in eternity
to come, live here again?
So much for the weather forecasts
of men and machines. The prophecies of God never fail;
we simply fall short in understanding them. That is one
of my own worst weaknesses. Sometimes I can grasp the content;
I am just so far out on the timing! I hope I come back
and re-read this sometime and remind myself to improve!
It has also been a marvelous
time for great talks in church, some of the best I ever
remember, and by a variety of people. Elizabeth spoke of
us all working together, and the difficulties we often face
with personality conflicts. Someone likened it to building,
pointing out that no bricks have smooth surfaces, there
is always abrasion. That is why we have mortar, or cement,
to fill all the little gaps and make it work. The mortar
in relationships is tolerance, not “sweating the small stuff,”
allowing that we have different talents, different inabilities,
different fears or embarrassments, and making allowances
for them.
So much lies in attitude.
It can be easier, or harder, depending upon vanity, good
manners or bad, unrighteous dominion or the willingness
to acknowledge other people’s views, and the very definite
truth that we are not more important than they are, only
PERHAPS more skilled in a particular area. And then again,
perhaps not!
A talk that struck me so deeply
I hope I shall never forget it, was given by my home teacher,
whom I have known for more than thirty years. He and his
wife and daughter all spoke on the subject of miracles,
and all from the Old Testament, but he told a particular
story I will try to remember as “The Gideon Principle.”
You are probably all familiar with Gideon, in the Book of
Judges, but I shall summarize it in the way I most vividly
remember.
The Israelites were surrounded
by enemies and in deep trouble. An angel of the Lord came
to Gideon and commanded him to lead his people. They were
massively outnumbered and facing total defeat. The angel
identified himself to Gideon, but Gideon was dubious. He
asked that as a sign, the angel would make the dew fall
on the fleece Gideon used to sleep on, but not on the ground.
In the morning the fleece was
sodden wet, the ground was dry. Gideon was not yet totally
satisfied. He asked the angel to reverse the process, let
the ground be wet and the fleece dry. The nerve of him!!
It was done, and at last he
was convinced. He would obey the angel. He gathered a
great array of willing Israelites to go into battle with
the hordes of the enemy. He was pleased with himself.
Victory would still be very hard, but it was possible.
He reported this to the angel.
To his amazement, the angel
told him his wonderful army was far too large. He must
send home all those who were afraid.
Gideon obeyed, but the angel
said there were still too many. He commanded Gideon to
send home all those who lapped water from the stream, rather
than cup their hands and raise the water to their lips.
Now the army was very small
indeed, impossibly small to defeat the tens of thousands
of the enemy. Now defeat seemed inevitable?
Then the angel told him the
burden of the whole issue, and the principle that I need
to remember. Speaking for God, he said — “If I had left
you a full army, when you won, you would have believed it
was your own doing. Now when you have so few and victory
seems impossible, when you win you will know My hand in
it, and that I, God, have done this, not you.”
Of course I am paraphrasing,
but is that not the way we are? We do not see the hand
of God in things nor do we give Him the gratitude unless
it is so difficult as to seem impossible except He should
perform a miracle?
Even then, smaller miracles
we can forget. I do, to my shame.
It is a great gift to be given,
being taken to the degree of yearning for something almost
to despair, so that when God works a miracle for us, we
see His hand in it, and know He loves us, guides us, teaches
us, and nurtures us. Then perhaps our gratitude will last,
and we will then treasure the gift enough to do all that
is necessary to keep it!
What greater tragedy could
there be than to gain the most precious things easily, and
then because of that ease, fail to treasure them, nourish
and preserve them, so that finally they slip out of our
grasp, and the last day finds us without them?
What we do not pray for, so
often we take too lightly, and cannot keep.
I shall put that in my mind
as “The Gideon Principle” and hope I remind myself of it
often, and treat payment, waiting for things, wanting them
desperately, not as a punishment, but as a greater gift.
I shall try not to envy those who seem to be given things
easily and have all that they most want. It could be that
they are not the fortunate ones at all.
I imagine we are all aware
of the trouble caused by the newspaper cartoons depicting
both Allah, and the prophet Mohammed, which is forbidden
in Moslem law. From their view it is blasphemy, a very
severe sin.
It caused me to start thinking
again as to exactly what is blasphemy. One person’s genuine
belief may very easily seem blasphemous to someone else.
One of the clearest examples lies in the saying “As we are,
God once was, and that as He is, we may become.” To many
people that is a blasphemy for which the speaker should
be struck dead. And yet I find it the most beautiful of
teachings, and the heart and soul of the gospel.
But is that right to differ,
is that not what freedom of belief is, and something which
we should allow to every living creature? That is part
of the sacred gift of agency, and to deny it, the deadly
sin of unrighteous dominion.
But we all tend to be outraged
when someone else mocks or demeans our faith, or the people,
the heroes and saints of our heritage. To see sacred figures,
qualities that are the source of light and life, the purest
reflection of God, smeared with foulness is terrible.
How can we prevent it? We
can’t, that is the simple answer. And if we react with
hatred or worse, with violence, then are we not committing
a far greater blasphemy? If we really believe what we say
we do, then we know far better.
But is religious outrage not
one of the most effective weapons the adversary could use
to tempt us into practicing the very sin we most protest
against? Our self-righteousness overtakes our judgment
and we give in to anger, allow it to turn into hatred —
and we have become exactly what we condemn in others — people
who have denied what they know to be good, and in a sense
mocked God.
The only way we can defeat
those who insult what we believe to be good, is to cling
to it even more firmly, refuse to be tempted into the greater
denial of what is good, beautiful, or of eternal value.
Maybe there are times when
we allow ourselves to be misled because we are not seeing
the facts very clearly. Of course we are children spiritually,
at least to begin with, and compared with our Father in
Heaven, for all the imaginable future. But we are here
to grow up, at least some of the way. We need to make a
start! Nothing less than our best effort is good enough.
BUT, never forget that our
best effort, really the best, with all our prayer and strength
to be honest, to see clearly, to wish carefully, to listen
to the promptings of the Holy Spirit even when they say
things we would rather not hear, even when we have to go
forward terrified and into the unknown, then our best is
good enough. What we cannot do, God can do for us. What
we could have done but didn’t, might well be lost forever.
A very dear friend of mine
said to me the other day, “Stop worrying about it. Do what
you can, and let God be God!” I know exactly what she meant,
and which of my weaknesses she addressed — get on with your
own part, and stop trying to work out God’s bit — He can
do it and you don’t need to keep fussing about how or when.
I keep rededicating myself
to that. One day I’ll get there.
The other superlative talk
was given in a last minute fill-in that acknowledged its
heavy borrowing from Neal A. Maxwell. Perhaps I’ll speak
of more of it another time, but the parts I hope I will
keep in my mind are quotes to feed you for life: “All virtues,
at the testing point, take the form of courage!”
He referred to faith in God
being not only in His existence, in His love for us, but
also in His timing. That is one of my most serious flaws.
I loved this quote he used
from Philip James Bailey: “We live in deeds, not years;
in thoughts, not breaths; in feelings, not in fingers on
a dial. We should count time in heart-throbs.”
I count time far too carefully,
but without understanding. I should do as my friend counseled
— “Let God be God!”
Or as the psalmist said:
“Be still, and know that I
am God.”
I wish you beauty to see and
to seek, hope for all that is good, and a belief that with
labour, love, honour and courage, it is possible to have
every good and joyous thing, and to keep it forever.
Until next month — thank you
again.
