I am not yet qualified to say much about wealth, poverty and contentment. Let's say I am still working on it... I would say it has been a testing point for me, for ever. Probably one day I'll be able to write a book about it.
When I decided back in 1992 to go to Africa for the long term, I didn't worry about money, or think about it, or the lack of it. It was not part of my decision. I think money became a worrying thing for me when we had children, and when we were living in Zimbabwe with incredible inflation - so that prices went up and up and up. So did the amount of Zim dollars we got for our pounds as well, though, and in fact we got richer as far as spending power went. But, for the last year or so, we could only get money there by exchanging our pounds for people's Zim cash, in huge bricks and chunks. Or at the tills of supermarkets, at the end of the day, by arrangement with the shop manager. At first when inflation got bad, we would buy ten one hundred dollar notes clipped together into a 1000 dollar wad called "one pin" (because of the way it was pinned together). But the pins soon clumped together into three inch bricks, and you needed a ruck sack or cardboard box to cart them around. We actually bought one friend's entire Zimbabwe savings from him over the course of a few months, with our pounds. Within another year or so if he had kept those savings in Zim dollars they would have been worth virtually nothing, so he kept assuring us we were saving him from certain penury. But it all felt very skewed, and more than a bit shady, although I am not sure it actually was - and we rationalised how we were managing, along with everyone else.
When we moved to Uganda, it was a great relief being able to use an ATM - although when we first arrived in Uganda there were only two ATMs in the country! Hard to believe now when they are found at every filling station. The two were in the very middle of Kampala, in places impossible to park near. So we still went mostly for our money to Downtown Forex. Even the hassle of getting to Downtown Forex felt simple and do-able after all the uncertainties and arrangement-making of getting money in Zimbabwe.
But we found the cost of living in Uganda almost double what it was in Zim, and we had to ask our churches for more support and add on more churches as well. We did get the extra support we needed, but I hated getting the emails frmo Crosslinks saying we were under-supported, and being featured on the website as one of several mission partners who needed more support. I began to ignore emails from Crosslinks and refuse to open bank statements! Ignorance is definitely preferable... And then we had money stolen from our bank account through paypal. And then our house in England flooded badly, meaning a big loss of rent as well as huge bills for renovation - in the end all covered by insurance but it was such a worry to me.
I have often wished that I had tons of money, so that I could fly off on holidays to amazing faraway places, and eat out in amazing restaurants, dress all in pure linen clothes with long leather boots and wear gold jewellery. That is who I feel I am inside... as well as tall and slim with long sleek hair... Seriously, I am usually put to shame when we have those "If I won the Lottery" conversations - would you all really give it all away?! I am sure I would give some of it away... even most of it, but I would definitely have plans for quite a bit of it... However, I have been living on missionary allowance for twenty years, and I have not won the lottery (I haven't entered it in fact), so, I am not that linen-clad person... Ah well. And you know what, I wouldn't go back and change a thing. Not one thing.
You would think that after living in rural Zambia, downward-spiralling Zimbabwe, and poverty-stricken Uganda for all these years, I would have a better attitude towards money, and a better perspective on it.
In fact, I have learned some basic truths about money. I just have not learned to spurn it yet. I still have a way to go...
But this is what I have learned. Much as I could have compared myself to our better-off expat friends (and did) I know all too well that wealth is relative, and that I was incredibly rich in Uganda. Unpacking my weekly grocery shopping in front of Florence or Naomi certainly drummed that one home effectively. It was usually quite embarrassing. Bagfuls of food, for one week? Having a vehicle to swan around in at my leisure was another indicator of our wealth in Uganda. Eating meat almost every day, ditto. Having a home with a separate bedroom for each child, a good roof with no holes in it, a cement floor not a mud one, running water, electricity, ditto. Our own computers, ditto. Many changes of clothes in the wardrobe, ditto. A cupboard full of children's toys. Books, dvds!
I also learned that wherever one comes on the economic scale, almost everyone feels they do not have enough. I am sure that almost every Ugandan I knew thought I was very rich. Yet I worried about money and would tell people I couldn't afford to help them send their child to school. Meanwhile my better off friends worried about how to afford boarding school fees for their children when back in England. Other friends who were living back in England earning competitive salaries worried about paying their mortgages. I would love to get to the point where I am conscious of how rich I am in so many ways, where I learn that I do have enough, that God has provided and will provide for us. I would love to get to the point where I am simply content with what we have and what we can do.
Money symbolises security to me, more than luxuries, in spite of what I have been saying. But this recession has surely served to show us all in the West that our savings, pensions, and incomes are not ever secure. Aren't we actually foolish to put our complete trust in them, when banks go bust, and jobs get cut? This year while we live on two part-time jobs and wait for Dan's full-time job to start, we are experiencing how God is taking care of us, and it is humbling, and faith-building. Maybe I am learning at long last that our only security is in God, after all. And he has been faithful to us the whole way.
Thursday, 22 March 2012
Saturday, 17 March 2012
Goodbye Dr Williams
This week I have written up a long article for Crosslinks: "Notes for Returning Mission Partners". It is mostly directed towards people moving back to the UK. So unless anyone asks me to, I am not planning to put it on here. I could email it to anyone individually if you think it would be helpful.
But so much else has been happening!
I am not going to say anything about K-2012 - although I have spent a lot of time reading about it this week. I have a view, but I think it isn't simple. Anyway I don't think I could add to everything that has already been said.
But I thought of saying something about the resignation of Rowan Williams, because, as some of you know, he was one of my tutors at university back in 1985. I had one-to-one tutorials with him in my first year, on Early Church History. When I knew him, he looked like this:
I wasn't actually at his wedding, but this was taken in 1981 and I was his student in 1985. So he looked more like this than how he looks now...
He was my very favourite lecturer and tutor. He was so friendly, gentle, and easy-going. I was a brand new Theology student, and he was far kinder to me as a very green, young theologian than most of his colleagues, one of whom underlined all my essays in red and kept telling me "You're not in Sunday School any longer..." (That was one of the few evangelical tutors!)
I used to go to Rowan William's rooms in Clare College and read through the comments on my essay while he made me tea... The tutors didn't have fridges in their rooms so they all kept boxes of milk on the outside windowsills of their leaded windowpanes - and his milk was always sour! ... Not very nice cups of tea!
He also invited me along with a group of students to lunch in his Cambridge cottage - his wife Jane was very pretty, a bit hippyish, wore Laura Ashley and made a veggie lunch. I loved them.
Of course Rowan Williams himself had just been arrested for joining a CND (Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament) demo at a nearby RAF base, protesting against the storing of American trident missiles there. He famously referred to himself as a "hairy lefty" once.
It has been interesting reading all the reactions to his resignation. He is going early - he could have stayed in office until 2020. I am not surprised he is stepping down now after ten years that must feel very long. He is returning to the academic life, to be Master of Magdalene College, Cambridge, and to writing and teaching I gather. No doubt to his great relief.
He has clearly not been everyone's favourite Archbishop. I think any other man in his position in the last ten years would have overseen the Anglican Church splitting. I predict that the next one will. He was probably the only person who could hold it together, but he did it by keeping the discussion going, round and round... Everyone was frustrated with him at various points - the evangelicals because he kept bringing the TEC leaders back into the discussion, the liberals because although they thought he sided with them on the issue of ordination of homosexuals, he never led the church definitely in that direction. Woolly, maybe, but I think his desperate aim was to keep things together, to keep people talking. Like the hostage negotiator who can't actually bring the operation to closure. I understand that. Whether he was right to take that approach is another question.
He has also been described as the best archbishop the church has had for a century, and certainly the most intelligent. From what I have seen, everyone who knows him loves him. I think he has been an enigma: approachable and loveable, and yet often impossible to understand. Willing to dress up with druids, to contemplate shariah law in the UK, and yet upholding Scripture and Tradition in a very orthodox way. Apparently he has been loved in the parish churches and schools wherever he has visited. People in Africa who have met him also love him. He was highly praised after his visit to Zimbabwe where he confronted Mugabe himself. I know people who love him and who hate him. And some who feel he has lost his way. For myself, as I said, I liked him very much when I knew him, a lovely, Godly person, and I think he has done what he thought was best for the Church. But I think he has drawn out the time of impossible cohesion too long. I think most people wished he would have taken clear leadership in one direction or the other, but if he had, it would have led to certain schism. He said of his successor: "I hope he has the constitution of an ox and the skin of a rhinoceros." Yes, he'll need it.
We ought to get an evangelical next, as the Church of England usually alternates between a Liberal and an Evangelical. So what will happen then?! We may get the Ugandan Archbishop of York, John Sentamu, although, true to form, he says he doesn't want it. But he is a frontrunner and would be a very popular choice here in England. Could be a very interesting few years ahead...
But so much else has been happening!
I am not going to say anything about K-2012 - although I have spent a lot of time reading about it this week. I have a view, but I think it isn't simple. Anyway I don't think I could add to everything that has already been said.
But I thought of saying something about the resignation of Rowan Williams, because, as some of you know, he was one of my tutors at university back in 1985. I had one-to-one tutorials with him in my first year, on Early Church History. When I knew him, he looked like this:
I wasn't actually at his wedding, but this was taken in 1981 and I was his student in 1985. So he looked more like this than how he looks now...
He was my very favourite lecturer and tutor. He was so friendly, gentle, and easy-going. I was a brand new Theology student, and he was far kinder to me as a very green, young theologian than most of his colleagues, one of whom underlined all my essays in red and kept telling me "You're not in Sunday School any longer..." (That was one of the few evangelical tutors!)
I used to go to Rowan William's rooms in Clare College and read through the comments on my essay while he made me tea... The tutors didn't have fridges in their rooms so they all kept boxes of milk on the outside windowsills of their leaded windowpanes - and his milk was always sour! ... Not very nice cups of tea!
He also invited me along with a group of students to lunch in his Cambridge cottage - his wife Jane was very pretty, a bit hippyish, wore Laura Ashley and made a veggie lunch. I loved them.
Of course Rowan Williams himself had just been arrested for joining a CND (Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament) demo at a nearby RAF base, protesting against the storing of American trident missiles there. He famously referred to himself as a "hairy lefty" once.
It has been interesting reading all the reactions to his resignation. He is going early - he could have stayed in office until 2020. I am not surprised he is stepping down now after ten years that must feel very long. He is returning to the academic life, to be Master of Magdalene College, Cambridge, and to writing and teaching I gather. No doubt to his great relief.
He has clearly not been everyone's favourite Archbishop. I think any other man in his position in the last ten years would have overseen the Anglican Church splitting. I predict that the next one will. He was probably the only person who could hold it together, but he did it by keeping the discussion going, round and round... Everyone was frustrated with him at various points - the evangelicals because he kept bringing the TEC leaders back into the discussion, the liberals because although they thought he sided with them on the issue of ordination of homosexuals, he never led the church definitely in that direction. Woolly, maybe, but I think his desperate aim was to keep things together, to keep people talking. Like the hostage negotiator who can't actually bring the operation to closure. I understand that. Whether he was right to take that approach is another question.
He has also been described as the best archbishop the church has had for a century, and certainly the most intelligent. From what I have seen, everyone who knows him loves him. I think he has been an enigma: approachable and loveable, and yet often impossible to understand. Willing to dress up with druids, to contemplate shariah law in the UK, and yet upholding Scripture and Tradition in a very orthodox way. Apparently he has been loved in the parish churches and schools wherever he has visited. People in Africa who have met him also love him. He was highly praised after his visit to Zimbabwe where he confronted Mugabe himself. I know people who love him and who hate him. And some who feel he has lost his way. For myself, as I said, I liked him very much when I knew him, a lovely, Godly person, and I think he has done what he thought was best for the Church. But I think he has drawn out the time of impossible cohesion too long. I think most people wished he would have taken clear leadership in one direction or the other, but if he had, it would have led to certain schism. He said of his successor: "I hope he has the constitution of an ox and the skin of a rhinoceros." Yes, he'll need it.
We ought to get an evangelical next, as the Church of England usually alternates between a Liberal and an Evangelical. So what will happen then?! We may get the Ugandan Archbishop of York, John Sentamu, although, true to form, he says he doesn't want it. But he is a frontrunner and would be a very popular choice here in England. Could be a very interesting few years ahead...
Sunday, 11 March 2012
Setting a tree free.
There is nothing so English as getting out to do a spot of gardening. And to do it on a Sunday afternoon after a large roast lunch is even more English. We must be getting assimilated, as that is exactly what we did today. Actually, I have been wanting to adopt the tradition of making a Sunday roast ever since moving here, as we all love it so much. Today I managed it for the first time. A joint of roast pork with crackling and mustard, roast potatoes, carrots and runner beans, followed by a bowl of toffee ice cream... Something subconscious must have happened after that, because never in Uganda on a Sunday afternoon did I feel like gardening. I would say, not once, ever. It was too hot, too overgrown, there were too many spiders and ants, and Baker was going to do it anyway...
Even though we are in a rented house, we think we will be here for quite a long time so we have to keep the garden under control at least, and we want it to look nice. I had been wanting to strip the encroaching ivy off the two big old apple trees, and Abby had been wanting to plant out some primroses and other flowers... So we visited the garden centre (another quintessentially English pastime), bought some pots of primroses and a huge blue anenome (my choice), and a welly-boot-puller-offer which we've been wanting, and came home and all four of us then set to it in the garden. It was sunny, warm, satisfying and fun. Honestly we could have been Adam, Eve and their first two children, working away in our own little Eden.
The trunk of the old apple tree felt warm, strong and good, whilst the creeping thin ivy felt evil, determined, and cold... The ivy roots went off into the ground far afield, and the ivy clung onto the tree by millions of little brown threads. The more you pulled at it, the further away and the tougher the roots and tributaries became. The parables were simply flying into my mind! It would be easy just to pull the ivy's leaves off, and the tree would look a lot better, but everything would just grow back. The satisfying thing was in yanking away at the ivy roots as they led away from the tree, even underground, right back to the edge of the garden - knowing that I was really setting the tree free, literally pulling away its chains. I also want to be freed like that. I bet we all do. But it might take some pulling and yanking. It might not feel that good. But so much better afterwards...
Even though we are in a rented house, we think we will be here for quite a long time so we have to keep the garden under control at least, and we want it to look nice. I had been wanting to strip the encroaching ivy off the two big old apple trees, and Abby had been wanting to plant out some primroses and other flowers... So we visited the garden centre (another quintessentially English pastime), bought some pots of primroses and a huge blue anenome (my choice), and a welly-boot-puller-offer which we've been wanting, and came home and all four of us then set to it in the garden. It was sunny, warm, satisfying and fun. Honestly we could have been Adam, Eve and their first two children, working away in our own little Eden.
The trunk of the old apple tree felt warm, strong and good, whilst the creeping thin ivy felt evil, determined, and cold... The ivy roots went off into the ground far afield, and the ivy clung onto the tree by millions of little brown threads. The more you pulled at it, the further away and the tougher the roots and tributaries became. The parables were simply flying into my mind! It would be easy just to pull the ivy's leaves off, and the tree would look a lot better, but everything would just grow back. The satisfying thing was in yanking away at the ivy roots as they led away from the tree, even underground, right back to the edge of the garden - knowing that I was really setting the tree free, literally pulling away its chains. I also want to be freed like that. I bet we all do. But it might take some pulling and yanking. It might not feel that good. But so much better afterwards...
Thursday, 8 March 2012
Moonshadows
In Uganda, walking home at night from a fellowship or from a friend's house, my eyes would always seek out the moon. Sometimes lying like a slice of rind on its back, sometimes a huge round disc, casting a bright aurora, sometimes rising in front of our house and in other phases behind it, above the giant craggy trees back up there on the hill. I tried to photograph it several times, but they never really came out. Because there is hardly any artificial light in Uganda (a sore subject...), the night sky is so very black so that the moon and stars shine out in glory. But here in England, whilst not so intensely bright, the moon is also stunning, peaceful, unmoved, mysterious, comforting...
I love the moon. I love that it belongs to our earth and circles around it, over and over. It is like a benign presence, overseeing us night after night. I was open-mouthed, like a child at a magic show when we were in the Space museum in DC once and saw real rocks from the very moon itself, lying on black cloth. I would jump at the chance to go there - please may it be possible during our lifetime, and not for a million dollars!
In Uganda I used to point out to whoever I was with, that in the southern hemisphere, the moon has a rabbit in it, a large one with its ears flying back. But here in England, in the northern hemisphere, it has a face. Today I will prove it once and for all, with two photos from Google:
Face...
Rabbit...
Until today I hadn't realised that the man in the moon looks pretty shocked about something, but you can stretch it to look like a smile...
Anyway, Alex is doing space at the moment and has to make a moon diary, drawing it in all its phases this month. What a great project. Tonight is a full moon, sailing over the rooftops of Gloucester. I tried again to take a few photos and will put them here, but once again they are just a feeble attempt...
In this one, you can see the face, and he looks happy, I think.
I love the moon. I love that it belongs to our earth and circles around it, over and over. It is like a benign presence, overseeing us night after night. I was open-mouthed, like a child at a magic show when we were in the Space museum in DC once and saw real rocks from the very moon itself, lying on black cloth. I would jump at the chance to go there - please may it be possible during our lifetime, and not for a million dollars!
In Uganda I used to point out to whoever I was with, that in the southern hemisphere, the moon has a rabbit in it, a large one with its ears flying back. But here in England, in the northern hemisphere, it has a face. Today I will prove it once and for all, with two photos from Google:
Face...
Until today I hadn't realised that the man in the moon looks pretty shocked about something, but you can stretch it to look like a smile...
Anyway, Alex is doing space at the moment and has to make a moon diary, drawing it in all its phases this month. What a great project. Tonight is a full moon, sailing over the rooftops of Gloucester. I tried again to take a few photos and will put them here, but once again they are just a feeble attempt...
In this one, you can see the face, and he looks happy, I think.
Wednesday, 29 February 2012
Thankful for spring!
Words can hardly express how thankful I am for spring...! The sun is shining, the sky is blue. Our garden is gradually changing into her new clothes, with daffodils, crocuses, snowdrops, primroses, and even a blossoming cherry tree by the gate! Who knew? I feel as though I can turn my face to the sky again. And walk along to the bus gladly without huddling and rushing against the chill.
"Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colours, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night." Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters of Rainer Maria Rilke
"Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colours, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night." Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters of Rainer Maria Rilke
"The beautiful spring came; and when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also."
Harriet Ann Jacobs
Sunday, 26 February 2012
Screen time...
One anticipated contrast between our life in Uganda and our life in England is the amount of "stuff" people here have, especially children. And we have certainly found this to be true. Here in Gloucester almost all our friends with children have the whole range of IT, including computers, Wiis, Ipads, smart phones, kindles, x-boxes, PSPs, DSs, ... Several families have a new computer game called Skylander, a children's game, and it works on any of the newest models of Wiis PSPs or x-boxes - if only we had any of that list - but, we don't! Partly because Dan and I are not all that techy anyway, and partly because we are living on a budget at the moment... In Mukono we felt we were ahead of the game by having two second-hand game boys, - and they did provide a lot of fun.
We don't miss having those things, but I do feel bad for Alex who would love to have one of them, at least. He does so well though at not minding - he even said that not having a Wii means he enjoys playing with them more at his friends' houses, which was encouraging.
However, Alex and Abby make the best of what they do have, which is a basic laptop each we bought them during our visit in the US at amazingly good prices. There are plenty of internet games they can play, and they do - with power here being uninterrupted and the connection pretty fast... Alex has become a whizz at a game called Eight-ball Pool, where you play other people at virtual pool, and he is really good at it. He also plays a lot of miniclip games. Our rule, apart from trying to limit the time spent on them, is that he can't play any game which involves killing or shooting people, and he is good about obeying that.
Recently, friends showed them a virtual world game called Animal Jam. This, unfortunately, has proved to be addictive to them... We are going to have to do better at limiting the time they spend on it. Thankfully in the last two days, the sun has come out and it looks as though spring has arrived - so they will be able to Get Outside!
People having so many expensive toys at their disposal does give the impression that everyone has plenty of money, but we know that is not the case - we know families who are on low budgets, and everyone talks about the recession we are in and rising prices. But it seems as though it is just expected here that you will have lots of electronic "toys" - they are not luxuries, but just basic everyday commodities. That is what I can't get my head around.
You could look at it as a general rise in people's standard of living - but is it, really? Children spending hours in front of screens of various dimensions... Surely anyone would rather their children were outside with a football, climbing trees, drawing birds, collecting insects, playing tag...! Do I sound like Noah, or Noah's wife maybe?! Actually I think everyone would prefer that, but, everyone says, "All the children do it these days. Sigh..." And a lot of the games are fun, and stimulating, and they do need to learn the IT skills... But we parents surely need to find a balance, and draw the line somewhere. We are only at the start of it with Abby and Alex, and this is only one of many lifestyle dilemmas we will face in the next few years, no doubt. Lord give us wisdom and grace! And help us to be neither mean and antediluvian, nor conformist and resigned!
We don't miss having those things, but I do feel bad for Alex who would love to have one of them, at least. He does so well though at not minding - he even said that not having a Wii means he enjoys playing with them more at his friends' houses, which was encouraging.
However, Alex and Abby make the best of what they do have, which is a basic laptop each we bought them during our visit in the US at amazingly good prices. There are plenty of internet games they can play, and they do - with power here being uninterrupted and the connection pretty fast... Alex has become a whizz at a game called Eight-ball Pool, where you play other people at virtual pool, and he is really good at it. He also plays a lot of miniclip games. Our rule, apart from trying to limit the time spent on them, is that he can't play any game which involves killing or shooting people, and he is good about obeying that.
Recently, friends showed them a virtual world game called Animal Jam. This, unfortunately, has proved to be addictive to them... We are going to have to do better at limiting the time they spend on it. Thankfully in the last two days, the sun has come out and it looks as though spring has arrived - so they will be able to Get Outside!
People having so many expensive toys at their disposal does give the impression that everyone has plenty of money, but we know that is not the case - we know families who are on low budgets, and everyone talks about the recession we are in and rising prices. But it seems as though it is just expected here that you will have lots of electronic "toys" - they are not luxuries, but just basic everyday commodities. That is what I can't get my head around.
You could look at it as a general rise in people's standard of living - but is it, really? Children spending hours in front of screens of various dimensions... Surely anyone would rather their children were outside with a football, climbing trees, drawing birds, collecting insects, playing tag...! Do I sound like Noah, or Noah's wife maybe?! Actually I think everyone would prefer that, but, everyone says, "All the children do it these days. Sigh..." And a lot of the games are fun, and stimulating, and they do need to learn the IT skills... But we parents surely need to find a balance, and draw the line somewhere. We are only at the start of it with Abby and Alex, and this is only one of many lifestyle dilemmas we will face in the next few years, no doubt. Lord give us wisdom and grace! And help us to be neither mean and antediluvian, nor conformist and resigned!
Tuesday, 21 February 2012
We had our piano tuned today - beware... a parable from life coming up...
On a certain day, a man and a woman were given an old, worn out piano which fitted into their kitchen perfectly, and their daughter Abigail did love to play on it. But the piano was exceedingly out of tune after some years of neglect and a rough journey in the back of a clapped out van to cap it all. So Abigail played her beautiful pieces on it, but it sounded mournful, and clangy.
So the man and woman decided to call in the piano tuner. He duly came, and pronounced its condition "dreadful" and he worked on it for several hours... Each string was stretched and wound by its peg at the top, and each string did whine and protest, until it reached its perfect length and tension, and then it did sing beautifully and blend its sound wonderfully with the notes of its brothers and sisters.
Eventually after hours of awful pinging, sighing, and whining, the piano was played and it did sound clear and bright and harmonious, as a piano is supposed to sound. And Abigail and the man and the woman and their son Alex also were exceedingly happy.
Those who have ears to hear, let them hear...
It seemed to me as I listened to the strings of the piano complaining as they were being tuned, that this was a good picture for us humans. We can easily become out of tune, disharmonious and discordant with both God and our fellow human beings, family, neighbours, friends, and it happens, as with a piano, for a number of reasons. Neglect of our spiritual lives is probably the most easy and common cause for this to happen, in small, incremental ways. But also a trauma, or ongoing difficult circumstances around us, can also affect us and send us out of tune. God is the great piano-tuner (?!) and through his Spirit he works on us constantly to bring us to the right place, to be in harmony with him and with our fellows. When we are spiritually in the right place, we make that beautiful, clear tuneful sound that we were designed to make. If we are just a bit off key we can still make a lovely sound, but it is just not as lovely as it is meant to be. But the inevitable result if we don't do something about it when it starts to happen, is that we will end up clangy and horribly discordant and then noone will want to hear that piano played.
Another thing - while the piano is in the process of being tuned, it sounds painful. I don't know if the strings actually feel the pain of being stretched or wound (or maybe in some cases unwound), - but it certainly sounds painful! When God is teaching or moulding us, it can sometimes be painful, or difficult. But what I have found is that, whilst God uses difficult and painful times to teach me things, when he has something to rebuke me about, it is done in the most gentle way a Father could ever use, and is not painful at all, but is merciful and kind.
So the man and woman decided to call in the piano tuner. He duly came, and pronounced its condition "dreadful" and he worked on it for several hours... Each string was stretched and wound by its peg at the top, and each string did whine and protest, until it reached its perfect length and tension, and then it did sing beautifully and blend its sound wonderfully with the notes of its brothers and sisters.
Eventually after hours of awful pinging, sighing, and whining, the piano was played and it did sound clear and bright and harmonious, as a piano is supposed to sound. And Abigail and the man and the woman and their son Alex also were exceedingly happy.
Those who have ears to hear, let them hear...
It seemed to me as I listened to the strings of the piano complaining as they were being tuned, that this was a good picture for us humans. We can easily become out of tune, disharmonious and discordant with both God and our fellow human beings, family, neighbours, friends, and it happens, as with a piano, for a number of reasons. Neglect of our spiritual lives is probably the most easy and common cause for this to happen, in small, incremental ways. But also a trauma, or ongoing difficult circumstances around us, can also affect us and send us out of tune. God is the great piano-tuner (?!) and through his Spirit he works on us constantly to bring us to the right place, to be in harmony with him and with our fellows. When we are spiritually in the right place, we make that beautiful, clear tuneful sound that we were designed to make. If we are just a bit off key we can still make a lovely sound, but it is just not as lovely as it is meant to be. But the inevitable result if we don't do something about it when it starts to happen, is that we will end up clangy and horribly discordant and then noone will want to hear that piano played.
Another thing - while the piano is in the process of being tuned, it sounds painful. I don't know if the strings actually feel the pain of being stretched or wound (or maybe in some cases unwound), - but it certainly sounds painful! When God is teaching or moulding us, it can sometimes be painful, or difficult. But what I have found is that, whilst God uses difficult and painful times to teach me things, when he has something to rebuke me about, it is done in the most gentle way a Father could ever use, and is not painful at all, but is merciful and kind.
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