CONVICTED BY YOUR OWN WORDS

It’s always fun to throw an archaic ‘turn of phrase’ into a conversation. One of the ones I commonly use is ‘hoisted by your own petard.’

Now I’ll be honest, I knew what this expression meant - namely, to be injured by the device with which you intended to injure others - but I had forgotten the origin.

A quick study revealed that ‘petard’ is a word of French origin meaning a squat, bell-shaped cannon (contained within a cubical box) that blew holes in the walls of enemy forts.

These boxed cannons were full of gunpowder. This meant two things. First, they were basically portable bombs. Secondly, they could explode in the faces of those using them.

As an amusing side note, the word ‘petard’ undoubtedly has some connection with the French verb ‘peter’, meaning to break wind. 

I’ll leave you to develop that thought!

Evidently the great William Shakespeare knew about these devices and their unfortunate and occasional tendency to blow up, propelling their inventors into the sky.

In his play Hamlet we read, ‘for tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his owne petar.’

In this instance, the ‘engineer’ was the person with the job of constructing the machines of war.

So the Bard is effectively saying, ‘what fun it is to see an engineer blown up into the air by his own weapon.’

Now why am I telling you all this? It’s because I have had this kind of experience - metaphorically speaking (obviously) - in relation to one of my own books.

Many of you reading this blog will know of my moral fall and the life that I was living up until recently when the Holy Spirit brought conviction.

I will say nothing more on that than I have written in my statement (www.theprodigalfather.co.uk).

What I will say is that the ways in which that conviction came are truly profound - so much so that I am writing about it in a small book called ‘Songs from the Far Country’.

Let me relate one of the most significant moments.

My oldest friend was reading through Every Day with the Father as part of his daily devotions. He had got to Day 355 where I write about Jesus’ restoration of Peter in John 21.

He quoted what I wrote (way before my own moral failure):

‘Jesus is going to make Peter confront his failure, not in order to destroy or humiliate him but in order to heal and liberate him.’

He added another quote that he liked:

‘The call is bigger than the fall. We all fall from time to time as we follow Jesus. But our Father is the God of the second chance.’

My friend didn’t add anything else except the assurance that he would always be my friend, that he was praying for me and that he loved me dearly.

Looking back now, I can say with sincerity that reading my own words - now directed at me personally - had a very deep effect on my heart.

Only the Holy Spirit knows the extent to which this message - along with other factors - brought an awakening to me in the Far Country.

But I can say this, reading my own words, intended to bring healing and hope to others, was like being blown into the air by my own explosive.

In short, I was hoisted by my own petard.

One of my favourite verses in the Bible is in 2 Samuel 14.14, which says that God devises many ways to bring a lost or estranged person home.

The ways he calls out to us in the Far Country are truly marvelous, mysterious and miraculous.

If you know someone who’s in the Far Country right now, keep praying for them.

Please do not give up.

As Zackary Coke (great name!) said in 1654:

‘The prayers of the saints will ascend and petar an entrance through the portcullis of heaven.’

Keep going and blow a hole in the enemy’s stronghold over your friend’s life.

Prayer is truly dangerous!

If you are in the Far Country yourself, please consider saying this prayer.

It is the prayer I wrote at the end of Day 355 in Every Day with the Father.

It is the prayer that my oldest, dearest friend quoted back at me at the end of the email I mentioned, when I found myself blown into the air by one of my own creations!

‘Dear loving, heavenly Abba Father, I thank you so much that the call is bigger than the fall. Help me to accept your process of healing and restoration in those areas where I have failed you. Keep me in alignment with the call and destiny upon my life, in Jesus’ name, Amen.’

THE GOD OF SHOW AND TELL

THE GOD OF SHOW AND TELL

If you ever go to church, I wonder if you relate to this habit of mine.

When I’m listening to someone speaking or reading, on occasions I can find that a phrase triggers a whole chain of thoughts in my head - thoughts which may not be what the speaker expects me to be thinking.

This happened just last Sunday.

There I was in the morning service in the local Anglican Church.

I was listening to a man reading Psalm 19, and reading it really well too (he is an artistic and sensitive soul, so I wasn’t surprised).

He read, ‘the heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament shows his handiwork’.

I’ll be honest.

I didn’t hear the rest of the chapter.

I was away in my head - swimming down a stream of consciousness which turned into a river of revelation (at least for me).

And here’s what tugged my attention.

I was pulled - no grabbed - by the thought that God is into showing and not just telling.

When it comes to communicating with his children, God is a Father who’s into ‘show and tell’.

Now why’s that important?

To me, it’s huge.

These days, I spend a lot of time writing stories.

One of the essential keys to composing a gripping story is the ability to know when to show and when to tell.

So what’s the difference?

Telling is when the storyteller reveals what a person is like through the direct description of their thoughts and personalities.

Showing is when the storyteller allows what the characters say and do to reveal who and what they really are.

What the experts say is this: if you’re writing fiction, don’t always reveal through direct description - through telling.

Reveal characters indirectly through what they say and what they do.

In other words, reveal primarily through showing and be visual (we live in a visual culture, after all).

In Psalm 19 God says that he reveals who he really is through showing.

As the divine storyteller, God does occasionally engage in telling.

He spoke from time to time though the prophets, after all.

And he has spoken uniquely through his Son - described as ‘the Word’.

But this all this is ‘special revelation’.

Much of the time God uses ‘general revelation’ - he reveals himself by showing.

The heavens declare who he is.

The firmament shows what he’s like.

So when we look up at the stars in the night sky

Or when we stare at a landscape of fields and forests

Or when we watch horses at the gallop or Meerkats at attention

The divine storyteller is showing us something.

And as readers of the world, it’s up to us to try and see.

James Bond and the Mum/Maam Factor

James Bond and the Mum/Ma’am Factor

There are very few films I’ll see in the cinema twice - not even on Orange Wednesdays - but Skyfall is one of those rare movies to have merited a return trip.

There are many reasons why I’m not alone in thinking that this could just be the best Bond movie to date (and how appropriate on the 50th anniversary since Dr. No).

Craig gives us a hero that mirrors M’s favorite possession - a bulldog made of (ultimately broken) China.

Bardem’s performance (check out his 100 second single shot intro) is both terrifying and compelling.

Dame Judi dexterously mixes ruthlessness with sentimentality.

And Ben Wishshaw is a fantastically minimalist Q.

I would have warmed to Skyfall just on the basis of its characters alone.

But there’s more.

As a bonus extra, we get a surprisingly strong story.

For here we are presented with two characters - Bond (Crag) and Silva (Bardem) - from the same stock.

Both have a background in the British Civil Service and have been nurtured by M.

And it’s here that the movie succeeds in moving us.

For ultimately the lasting significance of Skyfall is its exploration of M as Mother.

M is a mother to both Bond and Silva.

And these two men end up warring for her affections and attentions like jealous brothers.

In Skyfall, M is not just Ma’am.

She is Mum/Mom.

And to Bond especially, she is the closest thing to a mother he has had since he was orphaned as a boy.

Which is why M tellingly says to Bond: ‘orphans make the best recruits’.

There is so much more I could say here.

I could talk about the fact that Ian Fleming called his mother ‘M’ when he was growing up;

About the mother shaped void in Bond and how M fills that emptiness;

About the mother wound in people in our real (as opposed to celluloid) world;

About how we look for substitutes to fill that void - often ones that, like M, can be dangerous to us;

And about how this void is only ultimately filled by a greater, holier, and divine love.

But for now, I want to celebrate the rich contribution made by Skyfall to the Bond series.

Sam Mendes has done a masterful job.

For the first time, we have a Bond film that’s multi-storey - many layered not one dimensional, serious not frivolous.

And for me, one of the fascinating questions it leaves with us is this.

Will the orphan-spy in the next movie look to Gareth Mallory as he has looked to M?

Will he see in Mallory a substitute for his father?

Will M become F in Bond’s orphaned heart?