The Gospel according to Rodgers and Hammerstein

Today I’m struggling.  I’m struggling to stay in this moment - the one I know is the only moment that matters, the moment where God is.  

There have been so many moments that have led to this one - many fruitful and good days, and many others that have been frustrating and difficult - but in each one of these moments, whether fruitful or frustrating, as I looked up at the horizon I saw a different day from this one up ahead.

To be honest, right now I don’t really want to be in this day, the one where God is.

Expectations.  Hope.  Trust.  These are a few of my wrestling things.

I expected today to look different.  I expected my working days to be filled with a different kind of challenge from this one by now.  I expected activity and busyness and fresh surprises every day.  I expected joy and stress and an only-just-keeping-my-head-above-water feeling to be my constant companion.

Instead, there is this moment.  This day. 

Here’s what it looks like…

I sit at a desk in one of our two spare bedrooms.  This is our own home and we love it; it’s beautiful, warm and comfortable.  One of our cats, Bhindi, is asleep on the bed in the other spare room.  I’ve just finished a cup of coffee that my husband made me. 

It’s cold today, but the sun is shining and there’s washing on the line in the back garden.  Nicole is digging over one of the flower beds, launching an attack on the wild onions that grow in profusion in this part of the world.  When she’s done for the morning, we’ll pay her. 

There’s black bean soup simmering on the hob – I made it this morning.  My cousin and her family were going to come for lunch but her daughter is poorly, so our lovely friend Liz is going to come and eat bread and soup with us instead.

Today began at Sidmouth Prayer Room where four of us met to pray over the newspapers.  I cycled home and started my laptop up.  I sent a few emails and texts, checked Facebook and Twitter, and then listened to today’s Pray as You Go while I cooked soup. 

This morning's Pray as You Go started with Nóirín Ní Riain singing the Magnificat.  Beautiful.  Afterwards, the person giving the reflection asked “As I listen, can I sense the Lord looking on me in my lowliness, and can I rejoice in him and in all that he does for me, and know that He waits for me in the Kingdom of heaven?”  

I know the Kingdom of heaven is near.  I know that is truth.  I know that God waits for me in that place where I connect fully with him, where I let down my resistance and join in the divine dance.  God is relationship, and I am only fully alive when I am open and welcoming to God, when I take hold of his outstretched hand and allow myself to be swept up into the dance. 

I know this is true, and I’m not sure why it’s so difficult.

This day is beautiful and good.  I’m incredibly blessed and privileged.  I get paid for this!  In fact, it’s my dream job.  Today doesn’t look the way I expected it to look, that’s true, but I urgently need to stop allowing expectation to blur my kingdom-vision.  

It’s completely ridiculous.

All this brings me to hope.  As I look up to today's new horizon I hope for God’s Kingdom breaking in; but in doing that I'm perhaps in danger of overlooking what God is doing right here and now.  I'm in danger of missing the sight of that very thing, that beautiful healing shalom breaking through the clouds, moment by moment, day by day, in me, around me and through me.

And then of course there is trust.  In trusting God to open that door, deliver the goods and fulfil my own narrow expectations, I'm failing to trust that God is faithful in all he does, that the earth is brim full with God's unfailing love and that I can trust him to bring about good things in each and every situation, however mundane or frustrating.

I do trust in God.  I just need to dig down into that a bit more and let go of my own stuff.   I must trust that God really is able to do immeasurably more (immeasurably!) than all I ask or imagine. 

I need to stop resisting being wholly, completely, connected and present in this moment now, however unexpected or difficult this moment is.  This is the moment where God is.  This is the moment where life is. 

This is the only moment that matters.

'We wait in hope for the Lord;

    he is our help and our shield.

In him our hearts rejoice,

    for we trust in his holy name.

May your unfailing love be with us, Lord,

    even as we put our hope in you.'

(Psalm 33:20-22)

...or as the gospel according to Rodgers and Hammerstein goes: 

'When the dog bites.  When the bee stings.  When I’m feeling sad.  I simply remember my favourite things, and then I don’t feel so bad.'