I have always loved the Sandy Denny song, “Who knows where the time goes?”
“Across the evening sky, all the birds are leaving, But how can they know it’s time for them to go?”
I’m quite sure that the older I get, the faster time is moving; each new season greeting me sooner than expected. The silver birch in the garden has already started to turn, so autumn must be right around the corner. We’re still in Lent, and I’ve found myself in a fairly reflective mood these past few weeks. I remember how, back in February of 2016 at the start of Lent, rather than giving up something which had been my usual practice, I decided to take up a new thing: my Theology and Ministry studies. These would carry me through discernment and ordination and into chaplaincy, before coming to Clayton Wesley. Those intervening eight years have all flown by so quickly. So much has happened: so many lessons; so much change; so many people; so many stories. There hasn’t really been a moment to take stock.
And so, for a second time, my Lenten practice this year has seen me pick up my post-grad studies with a view to taking stock and journeying deeper in faith and discipleship. This is a season for reflecting on where I’ve been, where I am today, and what I need to do to live faithfully, authentically, and vitally, in the years ahead. What characterises a deeply-formed life?
Unlike those birds in Sandy Denny’s song, I don’t know why time is rushing by, or what makes any particular moment the right moment for a task. And yet, somewhere in the deeper parts of me, my soul is saying that now is a good time for reflection. The poetry of Ecclesiastes 3 tells us that there is a time for everything: a time to plant or to uproot; a time to scatter stones or to gather them up. This touches on our Sunday message from two weeks ago, when we thought about Jesus’ time in the wilderness, and considered those things we can leave behind in order to focus on what is more important. Emelia’s message last Sunday asked us the question, “How is my Lenten action reorienting myself to Christ?” – in other words, am I doing this for my own glory, or as an act of making room in my life for Christ, and reorienting myself to Him. Paul says, “whatever you do, do it enthusiastically – literally, in a heartfelt way from your soul – as something done for the Lord.” This Lent, I’m doing heart and soul work for Him.
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The first book I picked up for my studies this Lent was Eye of the Heart, by Cynthia Bourgeault. In it, Cynthia recalls the first time she met Br. Raphael Robin at a retreat: “[I] instantly recognized him as ‘the real deal.’ He seemed to embody the combination I had been intuitively searching for all my life: a deeply attuned mystical heart anchored in a fierce conscious presence.” What a beautiful observation! To have a heart deeply attuned to God and His presence, and to be passionately and consciously present to life and people around us! This reminds me of Athanasius’ description of St Antony, whose life was balanced between times of withdrawal and devotion, and times of ministering to those in need. Athanasius tells how Antony would “[come] forth as though from some shrine, having been led into divine mysteries and inspired by God.” I’m reminded of the Psalm 34: “Those who look to Him are radiant with joy.” This Lent I am asking the questions, what does my face reveal to others about my heart? In all the “doing” and swift ageing and experience of the last 8 years, how has my life spoken of a life attuned to a God of love?
The poet Andrea Gibson wrote: “‘I saw a photo of you/ I saw the lines on your face/ I made you smile once/ so maybe one of those lines has my name.’ Staring into my own ancient eyes, I knew that every wrinkle on my face had the name of someone I loved. I have so many wrinkles, I thought, because I have loved so many people.”
Wrinkles and grey beard notwithstanding, I’d like my face to show a lifetime of loving service. I’d like my face to show that I have spent my time in loving communion with God. I’d like my face to reveal a heart oriented correctly. I’d like people to know that I’m a disciple because I am loving. I’d like my actions to give light in this world. Paul’s words speak of this Lenten hope: “For it is God who is working in you, enabling you both to desire and to work out His good purpose… [and to] shine like stars in the world.”
Scripture readings from Ecc 3:1-8, Col 3:23, 1 Pet 3:15, Ps 34:5, Mt 5:14-16, Jn 13:35, Phil 2:13-15.
“The Surprising Gift of the ‘Old Age’ Filter” can be found on Andrea Gibson’s blog https://andreagibson.substack.com/