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Meaning to live

Journal of Contemplative Spirituality Volume 13 Number 1 Summer 2014

Volume 13, Number 1. Summer 2014. ISSN: 1176-3477

Published by: SPIRITUAL GROWTH MINISTRIES TRUST.

36 Buller Cres. Manurewa, Auckland 2102, New Zealand.

Spiritual Growth Ministries is an incorporated trust registered with the Charities Commission on 17 June 2008 (cc 26037).

Spiritual Growth Ministries [SGM] is a network of people from diverse Christian traditions and experience who find depth and meaning through the whole Christian heritage of contemplative spirituality. The Spiritual Growth Ministries Trust aims to enable people to develop spiritual resources for life and work by deepening their relationship with God in Jesus Christ through spiritual direction, training, retreats and other experiences of prayer.

© 2001 Spiritual Growth Ministries Trust

Disclaimer: The articles in this journal are the opinions of the authors, and are not necessarily those of either the Editor or Spiritual Growth Ministries Trust.

SGM Trust is happy for any part of this publication to be duplicated, distributed and used for training or information. Please acknowledge the authors and Spiritual Growth Ministries when using our material. We ask that no part of this publication be changed or altered in any way without permission from SGM or the authors.

SGM Contacts www.sgm.org.nz

Admin: Joanne Garton, 36 Buller Crescent, Manurewa, Auckland 2102; 09 2675957 [email protected]

Convenor: Andrew Pritchard, 2/260 State Highway 1, Raumati South, Paraparaumu 5032; 04 9046764; [email protected]

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Refresh Editor: Diane Gilliam-Weeks, 91 Tenby Street, Wanaka 9305; 0274978374; [email protected]

Cover Image: © Barbara Lee used with permission

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Refresh Journal of Contemplative Spirituality 1

Contents

Life after crashing by Stephen Whitwell 3

I will give you a new heart by Warren Deason 6

Never too young to need meaning by Greg Hughson 9

Children Learn What They Live by Dorothy Law Nolte, Ph.D. 13

His Eternal Presence by Dennis Thorp 15

I will meditate upon your kindness by Anna Johnstone 17

Holy Communion by Andrew Dunn 19

There is an Ocean by Ana Lisa de Jong 22

Learning the Silence a prayer from Glynn Cardy 24

Meaning for life by Alan Upson 26

Limitless Hope by Ana Lisa de Jong 29

Hope springs forth by Patricia O’Donnell 30

After an earthquake by Barbara Sampson 32

SGM News Summer 2014 34

Barbara McMillan’s SDI Conference Reflection 36

Bruised Reeds and Smouldering Wicks: Spiritual Direction on the Edge ACSD Conference Report from Jane Wilkinson 38

Refresh Book Reviews 40

Refresh Toolbox: Reflecting on film on retreat by Andrew Dunn 43

Psalm 31 44

Living in the round by Anne Powell 45

The Last Word 46

Contributors 48

2 Refresh Journal of Contemplative SpiritualityWanaka tree © Anne Macdonald


They were my darkest days.

I had no meaning to life, let

alone a reason or purpose to

do anything.

Life after crashing by Stephen Whitwell

A credentialled minister for over twenty-eight years with a strong sense of call, I served as sole charge pastor in three local churches, and as Director of Studies in a large city church Bible School. When I started ministry all those years ago, I totally believed I’d serve and preach and minister until the day I died! I even said I’d die in the pulpit!

We’ve seen the Lord do amazing things among His people. And I say we intentionally, because my wife’s an integral part of our ministry – I couldn’t do what I do without her. We’ve learned so much about ourselves, God, His Word, and Kingdom things. We have love and passion for the local church, for people, leadership development, Christian maturity and for pastors and ministers.

But something happened I’d neither planned for nor expected. And it changed everything. I mean everything!

About seven years ago, my body and soul just said ‘enough’. I couldn’t go on, I couldn’t do anything. I was an emotional wreck. I was given some time off from the role we were in at the time pastoring a local church in a small regional town. For five weeks, I basically sat in a chair – resting, sleeping, weeping, wondering, worshipping, trying to pray, and looking out on a wonderful long view of a mountain.

They were my darkest days. I had no meaning to life, let alone a reason or purpose to do anything.

Yes – as they say – I had burnout! Humiliating. Depressing. I thought I was a failure. But my burnout didn’t come from times of success and growth. I’ve read the stories. Many pastors and ministers burned out at times of incredible success: lots of new people coming to their church, invitations to speak all over the place flooding in - they’re in demand, working 80 hour weeks. All the time it seems new initiatives are being launched and proving productive. The place is pumping and everything is going very well!

To me it’s obvious they couldn’t last at that pace. Though it’s true, some have amazing energy, and can survive on little sleep.

But I wasn’t working every night of the week, ‘burning the candle at both ends’. We were diligently taking our days off and holidays. My burnout happened when life was pretty much the same old daily, weekly, monthly, grind.

Nonetheless, I wasn’t seeing any real advancement in what I was trying to achieve, my vision wasn’t happening. We weren’t seeing any real growth in attendance, financially it

4 Refresh Journal of Contemplative Spirituality

was getting harder. I felt trapped trying to be something I thought we needed to grow the church.

Through their books and seminars, I’d had some wonderful, amazing mentors over the years. My problem was trying to be like them, trying to do the same things. On reflection, maybe another reason for my burnout was unrealistic expectations. Faith and vision are wonderful things but unrealistic expectations can be a killer!

Believing it was right, we moved to within an hour’s drive to our kids and grandkids. We both felt our life and hopes and dreams were over – cut off – just as Job described. ‘…there is hope for a tree if it’s cut down and that at the scent of water it will grow again’. But, in the very next verse Job says, ‘but man dies and is laid away; indeed he breathes his last and where is he?’ (Job 14:7-10).

Job despairs of life so much – he believes a tree can be revived, but not a human being. For us, that experience was painful. When you’ve worked for something, dreamed about it, put your whole life into it for twenty-five years, and it’s cut off, it is very painful. It seemed there was no way for those dreams to be fulfilled again. We felt just like Job. A failure. Abandoned. Cut off. Without hope.

Yet subtly, almost unbeknown to us, meaning and purpose were returning to our souls. Slowly, little by little, things changed. You see, God has the ability to resurrect things. In God’s timing and process – closing doors and opening others – recovery and healing were taking place. Now, God is resurrecting our dreams and vision and refreshing our calling.

I still have many unanswered questions about the whole episode, why it happened, what led up to it, what I could have done to avoid it, why didn’t I see it coming? Why me!

But in all this, we learned two very significant lessons. This process of resurrection doesn’t happen in a moment, though in God’s timing it probably does. (I guess five to six years can be a moment to God!). As well we learned ‘who we are, not what we do determines our value before God’. Our reason for living comes from our connection to God, the Creator and Initiator of all things.

When I had no ministry, no preaching, no people looking to me for guidance, no regular sermon study, nothing that had in the past given me a sense of being needed, it seemed I had no value. But the revelation God my Father totally loves me and values me for who I am as His son, apart from anything I do or don’t do, has changed everything. An important lesson we all need to learn.

This truth was clarified for me in recent times by the Gospel of Matthew.

Before Jesus starts His ministry, before being baptised by John, God boomed: ‘This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased’. (Mt 3:17). A public, divinely authorised declaration of the total love and care the Father had for the Son.


Our reason for living comes

from our connection to God,

the Creator and Initiator of all

things.

But the thing is, Jesus hadn’t done anything at all yet! He hadn’t healed any sick, cast out any demons, raised any dead, turned any water into wine, nor multiplied any loaves and fishes to feed thousands! He was just the Son of God! As far as we know, all Jesus had accomplished was to make some tables and chairs as part of his earthly father’s carpentry business.

I needed to comprehend this at a deep level.

My being had been wrapped up in my doing. My identity too tied to what wasn’t happening – my vision! My value was still linked to what was – or wasn’t – happening around me as a result of my efforts. And because of this I believed the fruit of my ministry wasn’t startling and newsworthy enough.

But as children of God we get our identity, who we really are, and our meaning to live, from God! During my resurrection, I learnt something about the security of the Father. My identity is in Him whether I‘m in the ministry or out of it.

So being out of ministry for a while was actually a good thing. I learned God still loves me just as I am.

Being out of ministry showed us anew what it’s like to be ‘in the pews’ so to speak. It’s given us a fresh understanding into the busyness of ordinary Christian lives – juggling pressures at home with demands at work, with expectations to serve in various ways at church.

For us, life is very different from what it was twenty-five years ago. Today, we have a fresh passion and love for the local church – human and divine, flawed and miraculous – all a huge help and healing to us.

And with fresh eyes we hear Job’s words again; ‘… yet at the scent of water …’. Water brings life. Water is a symbol of the Holy Spirit. It doesn’t matter how old, how dead, how barren, how growth-less, how lost, how boring and hopeless a situation might seem to us, when God by his Holy Spirit touches us, we can – in God’s time – spring back to life again.

If there’s hope for a tree, then in God’s economy, there is hope for you and me! There is hope and meaning to live – and it is found in Him!


I will give you a new heart by Warren Deason

I think my body had been whispering to me for some time that all was not well.

But what began as a whisper became a painful shriek when climbing the stairs at Auckland’s Downtown city car park. Classic angina symptoms: chest pains and shortness of breath. An ECG, blood tests and appointment with the cardiologist followed in rapid succession. Diagnosis: No heart damage but strong likelihood of blocked coronary arteries. Remedy: angioplasty and the insertion of a stent.

Unfortunately, things were much worse than expected and angioplasty wouldn’t be sufficient. The nature of my arterial blockages required what medical professionals affectionately refer to as CABGS (cabbages) - coronary artery bypass grafts.

So within three days of diagnosis, I came-to in the intensive care ward of Mercy Hospital after two sessions in the operating theatre: one for the bypass graft and the other to stem the bleeding – apparently not uncommon. A seven day stay in hospital and three months of recuperative leave followed.

I wasn’t your typical cardiac patient. In relation to standard cardiac health indicators I ticked most of the boxes. Diet, exercise and weight – all OK. The only factor I hadn’t thought of was genetics – my mother died of coronary artery disease at 69.

Oddly I didn’t linger over ‘Why me?’ and it became more of a question, ‘Why not me?’

When it comes to the experience of major health problems and issues, Christians will have their ticket clipped just as much as anyone else. Faith offers no special immunity or exemption. I knew all this academically, but to actually experience it meant life looked different from that point onwards.

Knowing your heart will be deliberately stopped during surgery and you’ll be kept alive by a machine, introduces a large degree of uncertainty and apprehension into your life. So yes, I was apprehensive. But the short time between diagnosis and surgery didn’t give me a lot of opportunity to grow or cultivate that anxiety.

One of the most important things for me about the Christian tradition is it speaks of an incarnational or embodied faith. It speaks of God’s presence coming in some tangible form, of love being expressed not just as a wonderful universal ideal but in the person of Christ – and in a thousand practical ways. So being a loving person is far more significant than being in love with the idea of love.

So how did I experience the love and presence of God during this time?

I was very conscious that God’s love was incarnate, embodied, and made real through the humbling knowledge I was being held in God’s love through the prayers and concern of many people. And this gave me a new appreciation of gratitude as a key spiritual practice.


Annie Dillard writes near the conclusion of her Pilgrim at Tinker Creek: ‘I think the dying pray at the last not please, but thank you, as a guest thanks his host at the door.’ I’ve always been struck by these words as they place gratitude as a central human response to life.

I don’t want to trivialise or oversimplify this by saying it’s just a matter of being grateful or saying thank you or praise God for everything that happens including all the trauma or tragedy that might beset our lives. If I’d a choice, which of course I didn’t, I would rather not have had this experience of heart surgery. So instead of saying, ‘Praise God for clogged coronary arteries,’ I’d rather say, ‘Having had this experience, can I still look at the world gratefully and even deepen my sense of gratitude for the wonder and mystery of life.’

So how can I keep saying ‘Thank you’ in the world? What can I be grateful for now?

At one level of course, there’s simple thankfulness for the skill of my surgeon and his team – skills and technology that decades ago just weren’t available. Back then my prognosis would have been bleak indeed. And there’s the wonderful team of nurses – truly they were angels: compassionate and caring. They gave me a whole new appreciation of those who still choose this profession.

I’m grateful for family support – having my three year old granddaughter hold my hand and say that she wanted to help make me better, was a gift greater than I could have ever imagined. And I’m grateful for my church family who really cared about and for me, held me in their prayers and expressed their concern.

I realise that the practice of gratitude is important to counter that very current middle class obsession with entitlement, that somehow I have a right to good health, wonderful children, success and affluence and a generally trouble-free life. It also helps us counter greed, jealousy, wanting what others have and above all taking things for granted.

As well, gratitude counters our desire to always be in control of things – to assume we’re entirely self-sufficient. Benedictine, David Steindl-Rast writes, ‘Self-sufficiency is an illusion. And, sooner or later, life shatters every illusion…Sooner or later life brings this truth home to us. By a sudden bereavement, by a long lingering sickness, or in some other way, life catches us by surprise. Catches us? Frees us by surprise, I should say. Painful it may be, but pain is a small price to pay for freedom from self-deception.’

Rast argues that the heart of prayer is, in fact, gratitude: ‘the inner gesture of giving meaning to our life by receiving life as a gift. To be grateful is more (than thankful). It

When it comes to the experience

of major health problems and

issues, Christians will have their

ticket clipped just as much as

anyone else.


the practice of gratitude is

important to counter that very

current middle class obsession

with entitlement

is our courageous trust that life itself – kind or harsh, happy or sad – is good, if only we receive it as gift.’

I became acutely aware of this during my follow-up visit to the cardiac surgeon when he told me in that matter of fact way surgeons have, ‘You know we call your particular arterial blockage the “widow maker”. Most people with the condition suffer a fatal heart attack, but we got to your blockage in time. Somebody up there must be looking after you.’

Even now, I’m not sure I’ve recovered from that statement and what it means.

I certainly don’t think it means that those whose arterial blockages went undetected and who suffered fatal heart attacks as a consequence, weren’t being cared for by God and that I am somehow special to God in a way that those others were not.

But there is something about the very wonder and preciousness of life itself that I’m being called to acknowledge – I can take nothing for granted – even my next breath is a special gift. I’m more aware of the invitation to be alive to the wonder of what’s around me in the simplest of moments, and to look at the world, not through the eyes of entitlement, but through the eyes of gratitude.

In the old Anglican funeral service the words of committal begin, ‘In the midst of life we are in death…’. Direct, vigorous realism – no phoney sentimentality there!

But I wonder if recent experience is showing me how those words can be turned on their head – so I can say, ‘In the midst of death (mortality) we are in life and grace.’

As Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel tells us, such blessings help us ‘to take notice of the wonder, to regain a sense of the mystery that animates all being.’


Never too young to need meaning by Greg Hughson

As humans, we are social beings. It’s a gospel imperative that good relationships are vital to our well-being. Time and again, as university chaplains, we see young people who have meaningful, positive relationships with others, are happier than those who do not. The Church can play a crucial role in creating the context in which good relationships can be formed and nurtured.

Young people need meaning in their lives for a sense of well-being. They ask, ‘what’s the point of carrying on, if there’s no meaning in life?’ To have no sense of meaning is to be at increased risk of suicide.

To be assured of being loved is the spiritual antidote for the loss of a sense of meaning. The practical antidote to loss of meaning comes from serving a cause greater than ourselves – earthly or divine.

When young people are valued and consistently told they’re loved, meaning and purpose are instilled. It’s especially important for parents and whanau to show tolerance and patience when young people rebel and push the boundaries. During the teenage years, it’s normal for young people to make mistakes, some of which lead inevitably to destruction of property and injury to themselves and others. The teaching of Jesus in the Parable of the Prodigal Son needs to be applied here. Forgiveness needs to be offered to prevent an offending young person from retreating into a shell of guilt and rebellion. Often restorative justice procedures lead to a better outcome for young people than exclusively punitive measures.

There is a story about an African tribe who, whenever a member of their community is found guilty of an offence, surround that person for days. Members of the tribe bombard the offender with reminders of all that is good about them. Eventually the wrongdoer gets the message and will do their best not to re-offend against their community which cared enough to put considerable time into reminding them of how inherently good they are.

A sense of meaning is greatly enhanced by creativity and appropriate accomplishment. We need therefore to encourage young people to nurture themselves by mastering new skills, achieving academic goals, or participating in sport. A healthy sense of accomplishment when realistic goals are met contributes to their ability to flourish and reduces the likelihood of suicidal thoughts and attempts.

This isn’t about being loved for what we achieve, but enhancing self-esteem and satisfaction. I see this at graduation ceremonies. To be justifiably proud of having

Everything within us cries out ‘No

more!’, and we do all we can to

identify the risk factors and take

appropriate action to preserve,

protect and nurture precious life.


reached a challenging goal, bolsters self-confidence, builds emotional resilience and buffers the negative self-image which contribute to suicidal thoughts when under stress, or the influence of alcohol and drugs.

Yet we live in a land where many thousands of our children and young people live in poverty, and our youth suicide rate is amongst the highest in the world.

Last year in Aotearoa New Zealand, sixty-nine young people under the age of twenty, committed suicide. The youngest of these was ten years old.

To allow the current situation to continue is unacceptable.

Today the increasing call is for all our Churches to advocate strongly for a society which meets at least the basic needs of children and young people. The NZ Methodist Conference decided last November, to commit to a ten year journey focused on implementing the theme ‘Let the children live’. The teaching and actions of Jesus provide strong theological and moral justification for this plea. Jesus said, ‘Let the little children come unto me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.’ (Mt 19:14)

While our Christian theology of compassion drives our response to desperate cries for help of so many young people, some screams from our tamariki are stifled, their voices unheard within families, schools, churches and communities.

Any effective practical response is impossible, unless those of us privileged to have ‘enough’ material, spiritual and emotional support learn to attend more consciously and carefully to signs of desperation which come to us each and every day in spoken and unspoken ways. Something as subtle as a fleeting look of despair in the eyes of a child can trigger our inquiry into their situation. Or as serious as a request for advice from a solo parent who’s just been told by their child’s teacher that during class time their child declared their intention to kill themselves.

More often we find ourselves the ambulance at the foot of the cliff, as we officiate at funerals for young people who took their own life, and agonise with families struggling to accept the self-inflicted death of their own child.

There is no higher incentive to attend a suicide prevention workshop or conference than losing a child to suicide, or ministering to their family. Everything within us cries out ‘No more!’, and we do all we can to identify the risk factors and take appropriate action to preserve, protect and nurture precious life.

At the top of the cliff in Dunedin, there’s a wonderful new service for young people called ‘Chatbus’. On two buses, counsellors travel around local schools making themselves available to talk with young people during school hours about whatever is troubling them. Chatbus is a great example of a community care service which helps build resilience in the lives of young people and enables them to generate and sustain a sense of meaning in life.


Sunday schools, youth groups and Church families also play crucial roles in creating a sense of community – something greater than ourselves. When young people feel genuinely included, life is experienced as more worthwhile and meaningful. The chances of suicide are reduced. The impact of failure in relationships and academic performance is buffered by being loved and valued by a community of faith for who we are, not what we achieve.

Most suicides are triggered by an accumulation of negative life events – like being constantly on the receiving end of emotional or physical violence. Relationship break-ups, trouble with the law, financial stress, and unemployment can be the straw that broke the camel’s back leading to depression.

Helping young people build emotional resilience to cope with inevitable adverse life experiences, can make a tremendous contribution in suicide prevention. Compassionate effective mental health services are essential, but insufficient on their own. An holistic approach to caring for the young people of our land is needed whatever their culture, socio-economic status, religious background, faith or lack of it: as the four cornerstones of Māori health attest: whānau (family health), tinana (physical health), hinengaro (mental health) and wairua (spiritual health). For church and community, acknowledging and ministering to the spiritual dimension of young people’s health advocated by Te Tapa wha1 is essential.

For anyone to experience well-being, they need positive emotion in their life. Any positive emotion like peace, gratitude, satisfaction, pleasure, inspiration, hope, curiosity, or love, qualifies. For young people it’s especially important to know they’re loved, by family, friends, community and (ideally) by God2.

Each and every one of us has the opportunity to encourage and resource the wellbeing of the children and young people around us. To the extent we show acceptance, empathy, compassion and understanding of their struggles, we will be good news to our younger ones. We can be the good news by praying and working together for a world where all children and young people have access to everything they need to reach their full potential. Collectively, we need to be there alongside young people, in a way which enables them to experience meaning and hope for the future. This is the heart of the gospel – all of us are loved by God. May God enable us to be channels of that transforming and healing love.

Let the children live!

1 Durie, 1982. http://www.careers.govt.nz/educators-practitioners/career-practice/career-theory-models/te-whare-tapa-wha/

2 The PERMA Model was developed by psychologist, Martin Seligman, and was widely published in his influential 2011 book, “Flourish.” “PERMA” stands for the five essential elements that should be in place for people (including young people) to experience lasting well-being, and hence reduce the likelihood of suicide. These are positive emotions, engagement, positive relationships, meaning and achievement/accomplishment.

http://www.amazon.com/Flourish-Visionary-Understanding-Happiness-Well-being/dp/1439190763


1 This poem hangs in Greg Hughson’s kitchen. Nolte wrote it in her own kitchen in 1954, sent it off, and thought no more about it. The poem’s simple wisdom was passed on and eventually translated into more than 35 languages becoming the title poem of her best-selling book. Dorothy died in 2005 at the age of 81. Copyright © 1972 by Dorothy Law Nolte.

Children Learn What They Live by Dorothy Law Nolte, Ph.D.1

If children live with criticism, they learn to condemn.If children live with hostility, they learn to fight.If children live with fear, they learn to be apprehensive.If children live with pity, they learn to feel sorry for themselves.If children live with ridicule, they learn to feel shy.If children live with jealousy, they learn to feel envy.If children live with shame, they learn to feel guilty.If children live with encouragement, they learn confidence.If children live with tolerance, they learn patience.If children live with praise, they learn appreciation.If children live with acceptance, they learn to love.If children live with approval, they learn to like themselves.If children live with recognition, they learn it is good to have a goal.If children live with sharing, they learn generosity.If children live with honesty, they learn truthfulness.If children live with fairness, they learn justice.If children live with kindness and consideration, they learn respect.If children live with security, they learn to have faith in themselves and in those about them.If children live with friendliness, they learn the world is a nice place in which to live.

Poppy © Poppy Dickson self portrait


Colour Light of the World, William Holman Hunt


1 Quotes and allusions may be found in the NRSV Rev 3:20, Ps 24:7-10, Song 2:8-17, Jn 10:10,11, Heb 4:12,13, Ps 69:9, Eph 4:7,8, Ps 18:16-19.

His Eternal Presence by Dennis Thorp

‘Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking!’1

Maybe we have forgotten to listen for His voice in our times of need.

But He is there, in the Perfect Indicative Active tense - He has come and He is standing outside knocking, waiting for our response.

So what are we to do first but open the door and let Him in. ‘Lift up your heads O gates, and be lifted up O ancient doors that the King of Glory may come in!’

Humankind is renowned for not listening to God. The doors of our minds are unaccustomed to listening for His voice. The hinges of our doors are rusting through lack of use. But who is it we are leaving outside but the King of Glory, the LORD of Hosts.

Yet with what ardour He has come – and with what desire for us to reciprocate! And with what patience and anticipation He waits!

‘The voice of my Beloved!’ Such a realisation by us delights the LORD and alerts our gaze to behold His coming to our door. He is thrilled with the prospect of having communion with one of His creatures. ‘Look, He comes, leaping on the mountains, bounding over the hills. My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag.’

Look what He has done to seek me out. With the greatest of expectations, He planned the way of our redemption before the foundation of the world and moved towards its fulfilment with such meticulous care that it required groundwork dating back thousands of years.

This was laid out in the Hebrew Scriptures and brought to fulfilment in His Son Jesus through His death, resurrection and ascension, unlocking the glories of the Kingdom of heaven to us and for us from Pentecost on.

And He continues to wait for our responses to His love day by day and moment by moment, in good times and in bad, in flush times and in times of need.

‘Look, there He stands behind our wall, gazing in at the windows, looking through the lattice.’ Yes, LORD though He is, He is interested in every detail of our lives. He comes in great anticipation of a delighted response from us.

Yet so often when He comes to

us He finds us hiding away in

doubts, looking inwardly in morbid

introspection, bemoaning the

situation in which we wallow.


He was so consumed by his love for us that He said that the zeal of His house was eating Him up. He said He was the good shepherd who was to give His life for us, His sheep.

We are shy of letting others see what we’re up to, and like to keep our privacy, at least within the bounds of our own walls, doors and windows.

But here He is, peering through our windows, looking through the lattices that stop our neighbours from seeing what we do at home. He sees us. ‘Before Him no creature is hidden, and all are naked and laid bare to the eyes of the one to whom we must render an account.’

Yet so often when He comes to us He finds us hiding away in doubts, looking inwardly in morbid introspection, bemoaning the situation in which we wallow.

But He speaks and says to us, ‘Arise my love, my fair one, and come away, for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in the land. The fig tree puts forth its figs, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance.’

He is speaking of the salvation He procured for us through the winter of the cross to the spring of His resurrection and ascension, opening up to us the gift of the Holy Spirit who was made ours when Christ ascended on high, making captivity itself a captive, giving gifts to his people.

Thus His fervent plea to us in our desperate need is this: ‘O my dove in the cleft of the rock, in the covert of the cliff, let me see your face, let me hear your voice, for your voice is sweet and your face is lovely. Catch us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards – for our vineyards are in blossom.’

And when we respond to His plea, He will be delighted when it inspires us to express ourselves as follows:

‘My beloved is mine and I am His.He pastures His flock among the lilies.Until the day breathes and the shadows flee,Turn my beloved,Be like a gazelle or a young stag on the cleft mountains.’

‘He reached down from on high, He took me.He drew me out of mighty waters.…He brought me out into a broad place,He delivered me because He delighted in me.’


I will meditate upon your kindness by Anna Johnstone

Psalm 42:6

You hold us in the palm of your handcradled against your heart

and we are shelteredby the feathers

of your love

The futureknown only to you

lies waitingcarefully chosen

precious giftsto be unwrapped

in your timeadding rich coloursto the coat of life

we wear

Peace us Lordso that the gold of the now

is not lostin the searchfor tomorrow

Published with permission from The God Walk

18 Refresh Journal of Contemplative SpiritualitySea Kayaking © Seafreedom Kayak


Holy Communion by Andrew Dunn

From time to time the power of imagery has been life-giving. One example of it is this experience a few years ago.

My annual retreat was at St Joseph’s Retreat Centre, Kohimarama, Auckland, on the edge of the Waitemata Harbour. So I took our double kayak in the hope that I might get some time out on the water. One morning, after my spiritual direction session with Brother Romuald, and with his blessing, I launched the kayak down at Kohimarama beach, loaded my safety gear, lunch and drink and set off to explore Browns Island.

It was a beautiful day, the calm sea sparkling with the ripples of the bow waves, and with a helpful tide and relaxed paddling rhythm I made my way out to the island. In the shelter of the main beach, while I rested and enjoyed some morning tea, another paddler arrived and we exchanged a few words. She told me the day before she’d paddled down the channel towards Motuihe and Waiheke Island and then right around Motutapu and Rangitoto and back into the harbour.

This inspired the thought, that with all day ahead of me I could do the same. So I set off down the channel to the eastern end of Motutapu, through there and Rakino Island, back along the northern side of Motutapu and Rangitoto.

The sense of presence was palpable. The freedom of being out there alone and exploring new landscapes was a tonic: the lift of heart and mind, the excitement of achieving a circumnavigation, the openness to how huge the ocean is and how safe in a slim six metre kayak – wonderful.

Lunch was eating and drinking while drifting on the water in rest times.

Suddenly mid-afternoon with wind and tide against me, I had an upsetting encounter with a big launch. It came far too close for comfort and nearly capsized me. The lone occupant on his flying bridge enjoyed my discomfort. Later, as the sun was setting, I rounded the Rangitoto lighthouse and landed on a small beach, exhausted.

There was still a long way to go crossing the busy main channel in the gathering darkness with no lights on board. What should I do? I considered sleeping the night in the kayak on the beach but that didn’t feel attractive. My spirits were down, my strength had gone, I ached with all the paddling. I had no cell phone with me either, and my water was almost gone. There was only a biscuit left to eat.

So I decided to sing my favourite songs and choruses and while doing that broke and ate the biscuit and sipped the last of the water.

“Help me! I need you now” was my unspoken prayer.

Humankind is renowned for not

listening to God.


Yet so often when He comes

to us He finds us hiding away

in doubts, looking inwardly in

morbid introspection, bemoaning

the situation in which we wallow.

After a few minutes my spirits began to lift, a fresh energy flowed through me. My courage returned and I decided to set out and paddle back to Kohi beach. With a strong stroke and singing at the top of my voice for encouragement and to settle my fear, I made good progress until, in the glowering, I saw the Waiheke ferry coming towards me down the channel from the Auckland wharves. I had no safety light on board and wasn’t certain the crew could see me. It was too late to turn back, so, doubling my effort, I headed across in front of it to get out of its way. It looked huge in the darkness as it passed behind me.

Eventually I floated up on to Kohi Beach worn out yet deeply satisfied and thankful. With the kayak mounted on its portable wheels I pulled it up the beach on to the footpath beside my car, wondering how ever was I going to lift it up on to the roof rack. A walker came along and offered to help. Wow! That was a gift indeed, a moment of grace.

The kitchen staff had kept some dinner for me; that was the best meal of the week! I was too tired to have Communion and fell into bed and slept till dawn. When Br. Rom arrived for our direction session I regaled him with the discoveries and enjoyment of my trip and said how disappointed I was to have missed Communion.

‘But you didn’t,’ he said. ‘You had it on the beach at Rangitoto!’

‘How come?’ I asked.

‘The biscuit and the water, the singing and praying. The meeting on the beach!’ Rom cried.

Wow! It was an encounter I’d been too stuffed to understand.

The reality of Rom’s insight set up for me a whole new understanding of Eucharist and ‘holy’ communion and its unusual places and times, when in the simplest of ways, grace touches appropriately and significantly, and Jesus nourishes, refreshes and inspires – and still does! Thankyou!

Refresh Journal of Contemplative Spirituality 21 © Wendi Sargent


There is an Ocean by Ana Lisa de Jong

We, so small and plainand self-contained,we live lives full of

petty concerns, and selfish gain.

We, all wound up and tightand self-absorbed,

we draw up the drawbridge,and pull shut the door.

With our concern for selfwe become confined,we narrow our world,

until there’s only room for one.

With our focus drawn inwe are cut off from Him,

the source of our joy, our power,our love, our very fulfilment.

Open wide, open up.There is an ocean at your door.

There is a river that through you would flow.Behind you is the author of it all.

His is the strength that propels, His the love that heals,

His the song that delights our heart,His the touch that soothes.

His the deep contentment, His the answer to our questions,

His the almighty provision,His the balm to our wounds.


As heaven is high, and the earth is wideso we can uncoil;

grow up like a seedling to the sun,and in His warmth feel our hearts thaw.

We, so small and plain,and self-contained.

We, who live lives of fruitless striving,and senseless pain.

We, all wound up and tightand self-absorbed;

we can open to His touch,fling wide the door.

And as we do so we can breathe.Now what others think no longer matters.

Our fears haven’t power to haunt,our illusions shatter.

Sons and daughters of a higher power,adopted in His Kingdom;

we finally sense from whom we’ve come,whose love is entwined through every living thing.

We can reach out and connect,without plans or agendas.

We can in freedom relate and trust,and to His will we surrender.

We can love and be loved,and as bearers of His light;

we can know the beauty of giving and receiving,for naught but His delight.

Open wide, open up.There is an ocean at your door.

There is a river that through you would flow.Behind you is the author of it all.

© Barbara Lee


Learning the Silence a prayer from Glynn Cardy

May we learn the silence of humilityThe silence of wisdom

The silence of loveThe silence that does not need words

The silence of being

May we learn to silence the noises of demandTo silence our appetites

To silence our needsTo listen instead to the voice of our hearts

And the presence of the Spirit within. Amen

[adapted, I think, from Michael Leunig]

In Times Of Grief

In times of grief and painIn times of suffering and fracture

In times of uncertainty and the failure of GodMay we not sink in despair along with all we believed

But have the faith to learn to floatKnowing, hoping, that in time this too will pass.

Amen

Let Us Make Room

Let us make room.To pray is to make room,

to enlarge our hearts,to be enlarged by the heart of godness,

so that all the unnoticed, unnotable, and notoriouscan come on in.

Let us make room.And be that room.


Written for the Common Dreams Conference in Canberra 2013

Sharing God

With bread and wine,We give thanks for one another,

For being together, for difference, for communities. When we share food, we share God.

Sustain us we pray.Amen.

Words don’t do it any more

God.

Words don’t do it anymore. They can’t express what I want to say.

So I remain silent, and wait. I’m in that space between letters.

A blank space.

Yet today it feels more sacred than the filled spaces.

God.


1 Journal of John Wesley 1738 Saturday, March 4.—I found my brother at Oxford, recovering from his pleurisy; and with him Peter Bohler; by whom, in the hand of the great God, I was, on Sunday, the fifth, clearly convinced of unbelief, of the want of that faith whereby alone we are saved. Immediately it struck into my mind, “Leave off preaching. How can you preach to others, who have not faith yourself?” I asked Bohler whether he thought I should leave it off or not. He answered, “By no means.” I asked, “But what can I preach?” He said, “Preach faith till you have it; and then, because you have it, you will preach faith.”

Meaning for life by Alan Upson

The crash is all about me. A slamming door in the heavens brings the vault above rolling and tumbling to earth. My head is on my pillow, my eyes wide.

My wife beside me is sitting bolt upright. As the tail end of the thunder dies away, we jump out of bed and yank the curtains back to look south to see where it’s gone. Coming slowly to full awareness in the silence, we wait for the next one and the flash that will light the harbour like day. In the stillness, a huge sense of relief floods through me. Another grief dies.

When Rev John Wesley confessed his doubt to his Moravian friend, Peter Bohler, and feared his lack of faith would be heard in his sermons, Bohler advised Wesley to ‘preach [his] faith till he found it’.1

With something like that in mind, I prepared for retirement from the parish: a shift from doing my faith in paid ministry, to being in relationship with Christ, the people and natural world about me. Like Whitfield, I doubted I could do it.

From childhood, as one of five boys, I’d seen my existence in terms of what I achieved. In recent years, even the pattern of the parish week gave meaning to my increasing years. I was comforted by my routine: service preparation on Tuesday with the readings for the coming Sunday, followed by mornings in the office and afternoons on other tasks like pastoral visiting. (Did Jesus say, “There will always be someone to visit”?) Within this daily framework, there was room for the unpredictable and space to reflect on the big picture.

But the day after I turned sixty-five, it all seemed pointless. I began to contemplate, not Christ and the journey ahead, but bringing my retirement forward and cutting short the remaining church year to superannuation. There were problems with this: my church super pay-out would be reduced were I to leave early – and in years ahead I might need every bit of it. As well, the congregation expected I’d be with them till Christmas and I liked to be thought of as predictable, reliable, honest and loyal.

In the conflict of that final six months of ministry I tried hard not to hate parish work. My purpose changed to keeping up appearances while battling my internal conflicts of interest.

That intention wore very thin.


the effect of other’s pain and

distress changed from a focus

for compassion to a threat

that might overwhelm me

2 Richard Rohr, From Wild Man to Wise Man - Reflections on Male Spirituality, Chapter 22 (p137) The Young Boy and the Old Man, St Anthony Messenger Press, ISBN-13 978-0-86716-740-5

I measured the stress by the words that came to my lips when the phone rang. Why? Because the effect of other’s pain and distress changed from a focus for compassion to a threat that might overwhelm me, and swamp all my best intentions.

Now earlier that year, a respected and loved couple – central to one of our congregations – died in a road crash. While the event focused me on the needs of their family, it also introduced me to a fear of the transiency of life.

Past traumas, which I thought had lost their sting, returned to haunt my present. Bad news of serious illnesses seemed to increase in frequency within the parish. Daily, I feared the next phone call would be from a funeral director. All this began to dominate my thoughts as I contemplated leaving the security of over thirty years in parish ministry.

All this had been complicated by the passing of an imaginary deadline five years earlier. When my father turned sixty, right at the beginning of his retirement, he died. When I’d journeyed through my sixtieth year I looked back on my calling to see I’d allowed the Christ friend - who’d led me to serve others - to be displaced by the mechanics of managing parishes. If I still had a future,

I wanted to reclaim the centre of my life for the Christ friend of earlier days.

Underlying all the transition was the hope of beginning a new ministry of Spiritual Direction. Thoughts of Richard Rohr’s two stages,2 one active and the other reflective, led me to move towards this new ministry outside of the institutional church.

I’d been privileged to become part of a morning Communion group. The twenty minute silence I initially feared became a treasured space of holiness in which to address the week’s events and my response. A particular blessing was the return of a child-like wonder at creation and the joy of sharing it with Christ and others. The vivid storms of Taranaki enlivened me, as did the bird song and the sound of streams tumbling to the sea. The mountain, the surf, and the black-back gulls on the roofline became signs of a world much wider than the church.

Being a directee gave me a special focus and a sense of purpose. I entered formation training for Spiritual Direction and through disciplines I often resented, I grew in self-acceptance and obedience to Christ. The spiritual adult within me clasped hands with the child of my past. A sense of wellbeing gave meaning to both the challenge and blessing of ministry.


Rather than go straight from one to the other, I planned a year’s moratorium on parish involvement – enough time to address the call to new ways of being. In the midst of so much change – of occupation, moving to a new area, living in our own house for the first time, the freedom of not feeling accountable – my time became a rich resource in which to nurture a new ministry.

Retirement is a dangerous time for some when the lost pattern of work seems to be replaced by nothing. All my past moves had been from one parish to another, hitting the ground running each time. Every new parish meant a new community to journey with, new geography to explore, new opportunities to socialise and experience life.

And leaving Taranaki felt final as we drove north towards the new house. Yes, new was exciting, but I was leaving friends and familiar pastimes.

So it was a huge relief to experience a good storm in our new home. It brought me the same wonder for God and creation I’d come to know again in Spiritual Direction formation. I found new social settings, started playing golf and tramping with friends, going fishing, following rugby with family, joined Probus and the Astronomy Club.

Now I’ve taken up the role of kitchen hand for mainly music and volunteer on a truck collecting second-hand goods for a Habitat for Humanity. Kerry and I are involved in a local church. And in between times there’s a garden of camellias, vireyas and bromeliads to care for.

As a sabbatical, a time of refreshment, of letting go and preparing the way for something else, this year has been as active as any over the past thirty-four years of parish ministry. But there’s a big difference.

When I was a child, many days began with very little planned and grew into adventures as the hours passed. An understanding of the world about me and my place in it developed through unfolding discovery and happy reflection in the quiet of night, head on pillow, as I drifted into peaceful sleep.

In the same way today I’m finding joy in the wonder of a bloom, the scent of freesias, the sun on my back as I hang out the washing, noting the tide as I look south over the harbour – all blessings that address the healing of past events. Refreshing warm thoughts of people I cherish draw me towards a different ministry in the future.

For now, these are truly days of healing, revelation, renewal and wonder.

Days of blessing. Meaning to my days comes in many different guises, some only recognised in hindsight.


Limitless Hope by Ana Lisa de Jong

With the dawn of each new dayHope comes; rising with the sun.

He longs that we be open to His touch;Receptive to the one…

Who comes on sandaled feetWith mercies that are new;

A gift that has your name engravedThe gift of a day held out to you.

It is He that wakes and seeks you;Asks you touch, taste and see,

All He’s laid before you this day;To come down on bended knee.

Slow down and let your burdens fall,Breathe and feel your heart rise up.

Every breath a gift, every moment another chance; For hope, for life.

With the dawn of each new dayHealing comes; heralded with the light.

It is His peace that soothes, And strengthens us with His might…

To stand and greet the day,To open our eyes and behold;

That each season has its blessings,Each cloud is lined with gold.

It is He that wakes and seeks you;Bids you follow Him this, and every day.

Come in and fellowship with Him,He has stored blessings in your name.

The blessing of a future,And a hope that doesn’t fail;

A future assured of His presence,That begins anew with every day.


Hope springs forth by Patricia O’Donnell

As I sifted through the remains of our demolished garage, amongst the flotsam I came across a scattering of colour – broken pieces of chalk. So I felt to draw a simple koru plant and write the words “hope springs forth.” on the side of our neighbour’s newly exposed garage.

Given the reality of previous days, these words felt overly optimistic: we’d dug long-drops and collected water from the gutter, searched for a missing aunt whose evacuation location no-one thought to register, and met a woman who walked three kilometres in rain with bad shoes, only to discover the foodbank wasn’t open!

But as I scavenged amongst the garage rubble, I discovered a miracle. We’d finally succeeded in getting our dangerous garage demolished.

Through the first and second earthquake series, after five months waiting for help from EQC to demolish this unsafe structure, I decided to take action. As I scanned the yellow pages looking for a demolition company, I came across Graceworks. I kid you not.

I could hear God’s chuckle in the background, this was what I needed. A rugged modern day saint, named Paul, arrived as promised having just picked up a Wellington builder who was donating his time to the cause.

A few days later with nothing but a couple of sledge hammers, a strong rope and due consideration about which block should be next, the garage slowly came down. The Wellington man discovered our neighbour was a bridesmaid at his wedding. She and her young children had been watching our garage sway drunkenly with each aftershock. God had heard her prayers too.

As agreed they left the rubble behind – and it was during one of my foraging expeditions I came across that chalk.

Three years on, we’ve learned to live without a garage. The frosts in winter are a challenge, but as I shave ice from the car I can still see the message of hope on that concrete wall. It’s very faded now, and ironically, the message only stands out when it rains. We still need that reminder of hope as with our neighbours, we wait and wait – no longer with patience - for decisions from our insurance companies and EQC.

We wait on spreading land that’s fissured, liquefied, and sunken – still quietly creeping towards Dudley Creek – for all rainwater must follows its heart from land to creek to river to sea. Like us the land is unconsciously moving towards the source of all love.

While initially the message of hope seemed premature and trite, it’s been one to live into.

Hope comes in many packages; the one new home across the road reassuring the rest of us that homes can be rebuilt, conversations that flow more easily between neighbours


Like us the land is unconsciously

moving towards the source of

all love.

across twisted and gaping fences, a few pieces of discarded chalk that inspire graffiti.

Hope does spring forth, from even the toughest rubble of our lives.

Hope always springs forth.

© Patricia O’Donnell


After an earthquake by Barbara Sampson

It doesn’t pay to be loose around the edgesat a time like this

to be frivolous or slackdon’t frighten anyone with a sudden sneeze

no leaping out of a birthday cake

You need to focus, concentratehold your mind in a straight path

don’t deviate into arrogance or smugnessdon’t think you’ve got it all sorted

or imagine you can ride this rocky roadon your own

there are forces greater than you at work herepower beyond your meagre capacity to understand

You need to twine your heart like a piece of number 8 wire

around something solid and grounded that will hold you calm on the roughest of days

and the bumpiest of nights

Be thankfullook at all you have become

even in the midst of all you have lost

Be attentivelisten to the Voice speaking

like stirrings of wind through the trees

Be present in the here and nowappreciate the texture

the sound, the taste and touch of each precious and holy moment

Be stillrest in the One whose love you know

Refresh Journal of Contemplative Spirituality 33 © Diane Gilliam-Weeks


SGM News Summer 2014Honouring the Past, Living the Now, Embracing the FutureA spiritual practice I find helpful combines lectio divina and journalling using the lectionary. One morning recently in the Old Testament reading, I felt Nehemiah’s anguish as he grieved over his ancestors’ tombs: desolate and ruined in Judah. The gospel reading for the same day has Jesus disciples clamouring to know ‘Who’s the greatest!’ [‘please say it’s me!’ is just below the surface]. So Jesus sets a little child in front of them as his answer.This got me reflecting how essential it is to honour the inheritance we receive from those who’ve gone before us. All indigenous cultures teach us the importance of this value, too often forgotten in much of society these days. The child – Jesus answer to ‘who is the greatest?’ – had me thinking: first about spontaneity, living fully in the now and second about potential, the future as yet unformed. It’s a future that will be created by that child, by this child, and by God together.So! On Saturdays in May 2014, SGM has planned a series of gatherings throughout the country – opportunities for us to come together to:• remember and honour the past 30 plus years of Spiritual Growth Ministries, and the

people on whose shoulders we stand. For it’s through their generosity of spirit we have been blessed.

• appreciate and celebrate the now, the good things God is doing among us, and the life transformations taking place.

• embrace and engage with the future, allowing those to come to build on our beginnings, to stand on our shoulders.

We want you to be there, to remember, to give thanks, to support, to encourage and to contribute.In other news, SGM is delighted to welcome the Rev Alan Upson as a member of Workgroup. Alan is recently retired from parish ministry in Taranaki and senior leadership roles in the Methodist Church. Alan and his wife have settled in Whangarei in ‘a beautiful garden that has a house in it’! The Formation Advisory Group which usually meets twice a year to support the Coordinator and review and update the Formation Programme, will now meet four times a year in order to boost our effectiveness. As well, preparations are well underway for the final year 1 and year 2 workshops of the Spiritual Directors Formation Programme and the Closing Weekend for the 2012/13 group. This is also the time when applications are received and processed for the new intake of participants who commence in 2014. Your support of SGM through participation, prayer, encouragement, giving, is deeply appreciated. May you be enriched, as your support encourages and enriches us. Blessings, Andrew Pritchard, Convenor


Barbara McMillan’s SDI Conference ReflectionWhen I first read about the 2013 SDI (Spiritual Directors International) Conference I got excited about meeting and networking with others who had a passion for spiritual direction practice.

The line-up of speakers included Matthew Linn who co-wrote Don’t Forgive too Soon, Susan Rakoczy whose articles about cross-cultural spiritual direction I ‘d been reading, and the first ordained female conservative Jewish Rabbi, Amy Eilberg, speaking on justice and peace-making.

I also wanted to network with other programme leaders, engage with how different faith traditions approached spiritual formation, and wonder about these things in the light of our SGM Formation Programme.

With the help of a SDI scholarship to cover the conference fee, I flew to Minnesota in April and joined 500 others for the four day conference and leaders institute. Late snow storms and freezing conditions plunged us into winter wonderland, best appreciated from the comfort of our hotel.

As keynote speaker, Joyce Rupp’s scholarly reflections on compassion were excellent. Joyce focussed on compassion for self, compassion and science, and compassion and suffering.

We looked at new developments in scientific understanding, particularly in cosmology and neuroscience. Drawing on insights from poetry, music and literature, she challenged me to consider the reasons I might find it difficult to have compassion for myself. I was also challenged to conceive of the power of compassion in very practical ways, such as taking the time to listen more carefully to the struggles of directees.

I had hoped to engage some discussion on the theology of spiritual direction and thought the Leaders Institute on the first day would provide a forum for this. Instead of this we focussed on working with tension and ambiguity, and were offered some wise input from Henri Nouwen’s writings.

Although the day didn’t give formal space for discussion around formation and theological issues, I particularly met God in the warmth of the Jewish spiritual directors I sat with. We shared resources and programme development stories. I was inspired by the way they have developed a uniquely Jewish programme of formation for spiritual directors. These connections led to an invitation to join the 2014 SDI leadership institute.

When I consider where God met me most richly at this conference, it wasn’t in the places I expected. Barbara Brown Taylor says: ‘Every time God declines to meet my expectations, another of my idols is exposed. Another curtain is drawn back so that I can see what I have propped up in God’s place. No, that’s not God. The failure is not God’s but my own, for having such a poor and stingy imagination’ (2003, p. 10). I am encouraged by the beloved in Song of Songs, to risk searching for where God might


want to engage me in the day, rather than going into new things with predetermined ideas about what shape the encounter might take.

I met God at the workshop I nearly didn’t go to on how to work as a spiritual director with someone who is in a twelve steps programme. I learnt how important it is that we work together to find creative practices that engage people on this journey. I met God at an evening of poetry and song where Joyce Rupp read some of her poetry and Sara Thomsen’s music and lyrics took those poems and connected them more deeply with our experience of life.

And I met God in wordless communication as Cathy-Ann Beaty led us each morning in contemplative body-work. Communicating wordlessly, using only our hands, I was facilitated to hear and communicate blessing, care, and compassion for those I was with.

Every time God declines

to meet my expectations,

another of my idols is exposed


Bruised Reeds and Smouldering Wicks: Spiritual Direction on the Edge

ACSD Conference Report from Jane Wilkinson

I begin this report with a disclaimer. At a recent Workgroup meeting for Spiritual Growth Ministries, a request came from Diane (Refresh Editor) for a volunteer to report on the ACSD Conference (Association of Christian Spiritual Directors) which was held in August. I confess I hadn’t thought my offer through because I didn’t take any notes at the conference (I so wish I had), and therefore, what you are about to read is completely subjective, probably fairly superficial, perhaps not how others experienced it and certainly not comprehensive! I offer my apology.

This was my first ACSD conference and to my great joy, it was a satisfying social time catching up with friends past and present. I’m so grateful for the personal enrichment I’ve experienced through Contemplative and Spiritual Direction networks and people. The organising group did an impressive job on all levels – hospitality, programme, extra touches and personal availability. College House offered a spacious venue, comfortable accommodation, yummy food and beautiful grounds and surrounds.

My group of friends from the Manawatu particularly appreciated the opportunity to be in Christchurch where some of us were visiting for the first time since the earthquakes. There’s a TV ad which says ‘being there is everything’. I think each of us recognised this in the conversations we had with Cantabrians, and seeing the city in various stages of loss, recovery and new life. We were struck by the ongoing impact the earthquakes have had on our Christchurch friends which was powerfully brought home to us in Joy Ryan-Bloore’s moving presentation.

The theme of the Conference ‘Bruised Reeds and Smouldering Wicks: Spiritual Direction on the Edge’ offered an inspired and imaginative image for presentations, teaching and reflection on the work of Spiritual Direction.

I was struck afresh how Isaiah’s Suffering Servant of God (Isa 42:3) invites me to live and work in the tension of my own brokenness and hope and also be present for my directees within these same tensions.

I confess, as one who prefers to avoid discomfort and work around the hope narrative, it was God’s timely reminder for me to more honestly face my limiting inclinations and press into this growing edge.

Drawing on the significance of flax in Maori culture and spirituality, Phil Cody’s presentation ‘He Akoranga o te Pa Harakeke’ (Lessons from Flax) cast fresh light on our conversations as Spiritual Directors. We were each gifted with a putiputi (flax flower) as a visible expression of the way weaving and sharing of personal story bring hope, beauty, and community to one another.


Keynote speaker was internationally acclaimed writer, lecturer and storyteller, Megan McKenna – a short, grey haired woman my mother’s age. There the comparison stops! Born into the Catholic tradition in the U.S., Megan has lived all over the world.

Megan is a storyteller through and through. In my conversations since the conference her stories are what stand out for people. She is also a no-nonsense truth-teller, and a little bit scary. Her stories were drawn from numerous sources including the Bible, myth and legend, different cultures and countries and her own life experiences. Before every story she suggests three things – all stories are true, some actually happened, and when you hear ‘once upon a time’, it happened to you!

One that stood out for me was her own. I hope I recall it well enough.

Megan was on an international flight when all the radar and tracking shut down in the cockpit. Flight attendants searched among the passengers to find an engineer who could help with the problem. Eventually an older woman offered her assistance. Nobody thought she could be of any use.

But it turned out the woman was an astronomer who could chart their position from the night sky. She skilfully guided the plane to its destination and on time. When asked what was going on for her as she navigated, she said her true love lived in the city where the plane was flying to and she was determined to get there.

Megan invited us to ponder the true love or light that guided us. For Megan it was the Scriptures and this was clearly evident. I was struck with the compelling way scripture and story came alive as we heard Megan tell it so expressively and respectfully (without notes, props or aids!). One such story for me was the encounter between Jesus and the man with the shrivelled hand [Mt 12]. I heard Jesus’ command ‘stretch out your hand’ as a loud and clear call to me to stretch – towards a larger landscape, and a greater trust in Jesus as I face significant personal changes in the near future.

So there we have it. ‘The vibe of the thing’ as a well known story from down-under would say. I warmly recommend the next ACSD conference in two years time to other Spiritual Directors who may have missed this great opportunity.

I certainly plan to be there!


Refresh Book Reviews

ChosenA poetic study on the impact of love on our relationship with our life partner.

Text by Liz Maluschnig, with photos by Melanie G Mason (40p.) available from [email protected], $25 each or $19.90 for orders of 10 or more.

Chances are you identify with my problem. I’m often invited to wedding ceremonies, and what to give? Surely not another jug or set of towels, or a white bowl? Now my difficulties are over. I found this beautiful, poetic book, Chosen, in which experienced counsellor and spiritual director, Liz Maluschnig, celebrates the joys of committed love, and imparts wisdom to enable love to flourish in easy times and hard.

It is a book of great physical attractiveness, with its spacious layout and text designed to draw the reader in, to notice, to see, and to understand. Chosen is realistic as well as romantic, gently addressing hard words and attitudes, when love doesn’t seem to be enough; but always in the context of true connection: the naked vulnerability that is the place of true safety, and the wonder of choosing and being chosen.

The text is complemented and enhanced by Melanie Mason’s masterly photography – enchanting, quirky (telephone boxes? donkeys?), whimsical and unique. Images that invite you to smile, to look more closely, and explore.

Yes, my problem is solved. I found the perfect gift for that wedding and for the next one too.


Three books to shape and form us Reviewed by Barbara Sampson

Three books have come to me at just the right moment and for the right kind of shaping over the past three months. With gratitude to God I introduce readers of Refresh to these three new-found special friends.

Sensible Shoes – A Story about the Spiritual Journey by Sharon Garlough Brown (published by IVP Books 2013) was recommended by a friend. I couldn’t get it through the online Christchurch Library system so took the plunge and ordered it from Book Depository. It was a book to take on holiday and savour.

In the form of a novel Sensible Shoes tells the story of four quite contrasting women who sign up for a series of Saturday morning classes at a retreat centre. I found parts of myself in this book and appreciated the reminder of some key spiritual formation practices.

The Grace Outpouring – Becoming a People of Blessing by Roy Godwin and Dave Roberts (published by David C Cook 2008) tells the story of a Christian retreat centre in West Wales. From an unlikely beginning this centre has become a missional house of prayer with a worldwide focus. It has made me start praying that the place where I work and serve might become a place of grace and blessing outpoured.

How the Light Gets In – Writing as Spiritual Practice by Pat Schneider (published by Oxford University Press 2013) came to me as a gift and has become a treasure. My husband, loitering in the library while waiting for a bus, spotted it and brought it home for me. The author began writing this book when she was 71 years old and took 7 years to write it. It tells how writing her story has helped her trace the movement of mystery (her name for God) in her life to a place of healing.


From the Editor A new book from Joy MacCormick

From desolation to celebration, loneliness to love, Moments of Grace offers pithy, thought-provoking reflections on themes connecting God, faith and the journey of life. Questions help the reader link head and heart as they wrestle with belief and what they experience day by day. The book aims to help people have a closer encounter with God in prayer, especially those who may struggle to find a place in conventional church worship. She says: ‘One of my most powerful motivations in ministry has been, and still is, “seeing the lights come on in people’s eyes” as they discover new ways of thinking about and relating to the Holy, and the impact this has on their experience of “life in all its fullness”.’ A New Zealand Anglican priest, Joy MacCormick has worked in parishes and hospital chaplaincy, led retreats and Quiet Days, and works as a spiritual director and supervisor. She is now based at Vaughan Park Retreat and Conference Centre in Auckland, with specific responsibility for promoting appreciation of Maori language and spirituality.

Taking Rational Trouble Over the Mysteries: Reactions to AtheismEdited by Nicola Hoggard-Creegan and Andrew Shepherd

ISBN 13: 978-1-61097-893-4. 256 Pages. Pickwick Publications

How can one believe in an age of doubt? How can we name the mystery of God in human words? Does nature speak of the glory of God? Does science undermine faith? Is the problem of evil unanswerable? In this volume, scientists, theologians, philosophers, as well as a historian and social scientist, take seriously the challenge of knowing and speaking about God in an age of doubt and challenge. All New Zealand writers, the authors reflect a variety of styles, inputs, and assumptions from “down under.” Some look to answer new atheists directly, others point out links between belief and unbelief in any age. There are essays that show us new ways of reading old texts. Scientists reflect on nature, its signs, and its obscurity. We are confronted also with the mixed picture of belief and unbelief that the last few hundred years reveal to us. Most of these essays have come out of seminars and conferences put on by TANSA (Theology and the Natural Sciences in Aotearoa), a forum for discussion and interpretation amongst scientists and theologians in New Zealand.


Refresh ToolboxReflecting on film on retreat by Andrew Dunn

Our recent film day at Oasis Retreat Centre was a beauty. Warren and I decided to use New Zealand documentary DVDs instead of the usual narrative style film. The themes we chose were all related to conservation, so we developed a fresh set of discussion starters (below).

We chose the following documentaries: The Last Ocean, based on research in the Ross Sea and the over-fishing for Antarctic Tooth Fish (Directed by Peter Young of Fisheye Films, Christchurch. 80 minutes); River Dog, the story of one man’s efforts to clean up and save the river he lives on when local farmers use it for grazing their cattle and so polluting the water and damaging the riverside growth (25 minutes. Mangakuri Pictures, www.riverdogfilm.com); Ata Whenua – Shadowland. A stunning cinematic experience of Fiordland set to stunning music with no commentary or dialogue. (30 Minutes. Murihiku Film Production. Available through www.fiordlandhelicopters.co.nz).

We followed these with two short snippets from Arocha, What is Arocha? (7 minutes) and Why Should Christians Care for Creation? (32 minutes).

A Rocha is the global Christian conservation movement with a branch in New Zealand. www.arocha.org.

All this fitted well into our one day time frame: 10.00am - 3.00pm.

Questions for reflection and discussion

1. What was the theme of each film and how effective was the film maker in crafting it?

2. Are there any common images or themes that emerged and how did you react to them?

3. What were the most disturbing themes/images for you, and the most challenging, inspirational, effective and/or life-giving?

4. What spiritual issues did the films touch into, and what spiritual issues were stirred in you?

5. What do you feel you can do with these issues

practically?

personally?

prayerfully?


Psalm 311 In you, Lord, I have taken refuge; let me never be put to shame;

deliver me in your righteousness.2 Turn your ear to me, come quickly to my rescue;be my rock of refuge, a strong fortress to save me.

3 Since you are my rock and my fortress,for the sake of your name lead and guide me.

4 Keep me free from the trap that is set for me, for you are my refuge.5 Into your hands I commit my spirit; deliver me, Lord, my faithful God.6 I hate those who cling to worthless idols; as for me, I trust in the Lord.

7 I will be glad and rejoice in your love, for you saw my afflictionand knew the anguish of my soul.

8 You have not given me into the hands of the enemybut have set my feet in a spacious place.

9 Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow,my soul and body with grief.

10 My life is consumed by anguish and my years by groaning;my strength fails because of my affliction, and my bones grow weak.

11 Because of all my enemies, I am the utter contempt of my neighboursand an object of dread to my closest friends—those who see me on the street flee from me.

12 I am forgotten as though I were dead; I have become like broken pottery.13 For I hear many whispering, “Terror on every side!”

They conspire against me and plot to take my life.14 But I trust in you, Lord; I say, “You are my God.”

15 My times are in your hands; deliver me from the hands of my enemies,from those who pursue me.

16 Let your face shine on your servant; save me in your unfailing love.17 Let me not be put to shame, Lord, for I have cried out to you;

but let the wicked be put to shame and be silent in the realm of the dead.18 Let their lying lips be silenced, for with pride and contempt

they speak arrogantly against the righteous.19 How abundant are the good things that you have stored up for those who fear you,

that you bestow in the sight of all, on those who take refuge in you.20 In the shelter of your presence you hide them from all human intrigues;

you keep them safe in your dwelling from accusing tongues.21 Praise be to the Lord, for he showed me the wonders of his love

when I was in a city under siege.22 In my alarm I said, “I am cut off from your sight!”

Yet you heard my cry for mercy when I called to you for help.23 Love the Lord, all his faithful people!

The Lord preserves those who are true to him, but the proud he pays back in full.24 Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.


Living in the round by Anne Powell

It is all in the choosingthis season as teacher and friend.It is all in the choosing the once unquestioned pathwayallowing its voice through turmoil of dreams and days.It is all in the choosingonce fearful depths to shape new spacesin the soul’s shyness.

In this season of invitation beyond the familiar visiblebeyond the lost art of connectionwith all creationsurely rises the sun and the moon of peace over fresh hemispheres.

Earthed,we stumble yet yearn to dancethe unsteady drumbeat of heart.

Quilt Title: ‘As Close to Flying While Still on the Ground’ Quilter: Cindy Watkins, Deloraine, Tasmania


The Last WordStrangely when I was faced with the possibility of actual death, first as a teenager with cancer in 1967 and later in 1975 as a correspondent in the war in Viet Nam, it never occurred to me to give up on life. Those weren’t really dark times, just scary. But there was a time when my dreams fell apart. I’d ended a relationship and thrown myself out of my own home with nowhere to go and no family within ten thousand miles of Wellington – really! I was too young to know better than to leave myself without a soft place to fall. That night riding alone into the dark and the rain on the bus, I felt the great black emptiness rising up before me like a spectre. I was also too young to have learned that only God could fill that great gaping hole in my guts. Yet still I prayed for help.Later of course I learned to ask God to fill me – saturate me – with God’s presence and love each day. And that’s what gives all my other loves – and my life – meaning.If only we could teach our children earlier in life the futility of seeking oblivion or wholeness or serenity in anything but God. That only when we let God fill us, can we seize life and love others from a place of wholeness. Blessings Diane [[email protected]]

Winter 2014 Refresh theme: Image of GodContributions to Winter 2014 Refresh must be received by April 28, 2014. Recalling both the Lion of Judah and Joy Cowley’s ‘Jesus comes to me as a spring time tree’, Refresh will explore the stunning variety of ways God appears to us in our contemplative experience and/or just how embracing our being made in the image of God has brought fresh insight to our lives.

Summer 2015 Refresh theme: Letting GoDeadline August 28, 2014. We’re looking at two sides of how – in our contemplative experience – God helps us let go: one reminds me of a monkey with its hand caught in the biscuit tin – the other – of letting go following catastrophic events like the Canterbury earthquakes or the death of a dream.Writers please• keep contributions to fewer than 200o words • images must be over 2 megapixels to be usable • use single quotation marks • conversational in style using conjunctions if possible • reference all quotations as endnotes • try to use inclusive language wherever possible


ContributorsStephen Whitwell is husband of one, father of two, grandfather of eight! He loves God, his family, life, good coffee and fine food, teaching, living in the Bay of Plenty and helping people discover who they really are! He serves as Associate Pastor at Elim Christian Centre Tauranga. [email protected]

Warren Deason is the parish minister of Albany Presbyterian Church. He loves good coffee and his three beautiful granddaughters, not necessarily in that order.

Greg Hughson’s first career was as a Science Technician at Ruakura, working mainly with sheep. In the mid-eighties he switched his focus to people, obtained a B.D. in Practical Theology and became a Methodist Minister. After twelve years in parish ministry (Feilding and Gisborne) he moved to Dunedin where he’s been Ecumenical Chaplain at Otago University since 2000.

Dennis Thorp lives with wife Barbara in Auckland near their five children and seventeen grandchildren. The oldest is 24 and the youngest two (twins, boy and girl) just 6 months. As well as church activities and helping out with grandchildren, they spend two months a year at the South Asia Institute of Advanced Christian Studies in Bangalore, India teaching incoming Masters’ students creative thinking and writing in preparation for their courses.

Anna Johnstone is at the exciting stage of matching images with reflections for her new book, The Jesus Walk, which should be ready before Easter 2014. www.johnstone2.co.nz

Andrew Dunn lives in the bush of Albany where, with his wife and quilter Margaret, he leads Oasis Retreat Centre. http://www.oasisretreatcentre.org.nz/

Ana Lisa de Jong enjoys her work for NZDF Chaplaincy as a Chaplaincy administrator. Previously in her teens and twenties she loved writing, but her poems were romantically inclined towards her partner. Now she’s writing love letters to God and it’s like the fulfilment of a gift, being able to give it back to God. She writes at the website www.joyinanewway.com.

Barbara McMillan is a spiritual director and coordinator of the SGM Spiritual Directors’ Formation Programme. She lives in Auckland and loves beaches, the bush, and camping with family and friends.

Glynn Cardy recently left Auckland’s St Matthew’s in the City to minister at St Luke’s, Remuera. He enjoys hearing his children laugh, and seeing his wife smile; not to mention the aroma of a nice coffee at his favourite café. He enjoys the time to talk without the pressure to conclude, and write without the pressure to conform. ‘These are great privileges,’ he says, ‘and I am blessed.’

Alan Upson recently retired after thirty-four years in parish ministry with the Methodist Church and moved with his wife, Kerry, to Whangarei. After having little time for gardening they moved into their first jointly owned home blessed with a beautiful garden with over fifty Camellias. To refocus the latter years of his ministry, Alan went through the Spiritual Direction Formation course with SGM.

Patricia O’Donnell lives in Christchurch with her husband WIllem. When they are not being pilgrims in Spain she works as a spiritual director, supervisor and childbirth educator. She likes tending her garden and her dreams and is thankful for family and friends.

Barbara Sampson is director at The Salvation Army Hornby’s Community Ministries in Christchurch, and part time poet, wordsmith and spiritual director. Wife of one, mother of two, grandmother of ten.

Anne Powell is a member of the Cenacle Sisters community in Waikanae.She has three published collections of poetry: Firesong, Enough clear water, and Tree of a thousand voices. “ I think of God’s first words as Light, Water and Land. These elements evoke poetry in me, as does our ordinary human experience.”

Jane Wilkinson currently lives in Palmerston North and soon will be moving to Wellington. She is a Spiritual Director and on the Spiritual Growth Ministries Workgroup. Recently she and her husband, Digby, walked the Camino de Santiago Pilgrimage in Spain as a Sabbatical treat.

Andrew Pritchard husband of 1, father of 3, grandfather of 1, loves God and life! Teaching, spiritu

refresh - spiritual growth ministries aotearoa ......learning the silence a prayer from glynn cardy...

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