Rio 2016 and the law of exponential blessing

Christ the Redeemer statue overlooking Rio, where a particularly blessed Olympics as far as Team GB went, has just taken place.

The 2016 Olympics will soon be drawing to a close and I'm thinking of ditching the telly now. After such an uplifting two weeks of sport, not my normal hobby by any stretch of the imagination, with nearly everything I watched turning out pretty amazingly for Great Britain I can't imagine going back to a diet of depressing global news, wall to wall men's football and repeats of Midsomer Murders.

It was London 2012 that first alerted me to an entirely different discourse around British sport and our potential for national success at 'the greatest show on earth'. Up till then we were plucky losers with a modest number of famous medal winners - in Atlanta we were 36th in the medal table, in Sydney and Athens, 10th.

During the 1970s a minuscule number of Olympic names filtered down into consciousness due to their outstanding performances rising above the level of the physical, to something almost mythical - chiefly the diminutive gymnasts Olga Korbut, the 'darling of Munich' (1972) and Nadia Comaneci, who scored a perfect 10 in Montreal (1976). These two, rather than any others, stood out for me no doubt because in the 70s I did gymnastics at school. It was a bit like dance, and the only sport at which I gave even a vaguely passable performance.

But as for the rest of the Olympics of, say, the last quarter of a century, I'd be hard pressed to recall much. Here goes a random attempt, just using my very poor, very non-sporting memory, without the help of Google:

Seoul (1988) - Absolutely zero, though I did know one of the Chaplains. 
Barcelona (1992) - I remember the song - Freddie Mercury and Montserrat Caballe.
Atlanta (1996) coincided with the early rising of our then 6 month old baby daughter, so a lot of swimming on at 5.30 a.m, and one very tired husband who got up every morning with the baby so I could lie in.
Sydney (2000) Splendid fireworks and Cathy Freeman's 400m gold.
Athens (2004) They couldn't really afford it. Paula Radcliffe's tragically incomplete Marathon.
Beijing (2008) I Started noticing that Track and Field have really exciting events, especially when Usain Bolt is winning stuff.
London (2012) Got very caught up in it this year, it being home territory; even went to two events, one with now 16 year old daughter; completely amazed that GB could actually win stuff, but assumed that was because it was on British soil and everyone was completely buzzed.
Rio (2016) Realised something amazing is going on, in this our most successful Olympics ever. Like London, people I've never heard of are getting so many medals for Great Britain that sometimes you miss one because you can only watch one chanel at a time. Come down every morning for breakfast and discover we've won more golds. Our medal total is 66 to date*, more than in London, across more disciplines, some for the first time ever, with actually fewer GB athletes than in London. Golds in swimming, diving, rowing, sailing, cycling, kayaking, canoeing, tennis, golf, taekwondo, dressage, gymnastics, show jumping, boxing, 5000m, 10000m, hockey, triathlon (may have missed a couple...)
Begin to scratch my head in wonder...

It's got me pondering about how success builds more success and what this means in terms of the spiritual, and that intriguing little verse in Matthew 13:12 - 'For those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance, but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.'

Seems a bit unfair of Jesus really. It's in the context of the parables and the one about the sower in particular. He seems to be saying that for those who 'get' him (who follow his teaching?) more understanding will follow upon what is already understood. Enlightenment will lead to more enlightenment. But for those who don't get it (don't get him?) the law of exponential growth will work backwards, and even the small something they did have will reduce exponentially to nothing. 

I might have got this wrong, but blessing appears to work like compound interest. Or Olympic success (even if that success is directly linked to funding. Of course it is - that's obvious). The more you have, the more you get, but exponentially. Blessing doesn't run along in a straight line, but goes up an increasingly steep graph. Maybe that's also what Jesus had in mind when he said 'I have come that they might have life, and have it in abundance' (John 10:10). I guess in sport it stands to reason that if you start from a successful beginning, with success to look up to, you can build even more success. If you come into a sport on the back foot, it'll take longer to build up to even modest success.

It reminds me of CS Lewis's concept of heaven and hell (purgatory?) in The Great Divorce (1945). Heaven and hell are not equal and opposite, though they appear like this to people at first. In the end of the book, those who have chosen the harder reality of 'heaven' over the grey laziness of 'hell', look down from their vantage point in a green grassy heaven, through a little hole in the heavenly ground, and see the whole of hell beneath them. What appeared, when they were there previously, to be a vast and sprawling grey town, is nothing more than a small reduced spot easy enough to fit into a puddle under their feet. Hell has exponentially reduced, while heaven is a place of endless and growing reality as people continue to travel onwards and upwards.

The 'law' of exponential blessing and growth may well apply to church life too. Churches where evangelistic courses have run, often report that the impact of running the course repeatedly is exponential. You can see this in the growth of the Alpha course across the UK and worldwide. Whether our Olympic success will continue to follow an upwards curve will be interesting to observe. There's nothing particularly 'fair' about exponential blessing - it just appears to be a fact. Whether after a certain point is reached, success begins to breed complacency might be an interesting tangent to explore, along the lines of Malcolm Gladwell's thesis in David and Goliath (2013), where disadvantage actually leads to a special motivation and hidden advantages. 

But for now, I'm basking in the feel good factor, watching repeats of Mo Farrar's races and the women's hockey team's winning goal, and sadly gearing up for next week's Midsomer Murders repeats.

* we ended with 67.

Sensing Lent 29: Rain

Unlike UK weather presenters, the bible consistently portrays rain in a good light (the Flood notwithstanding). Whether it's the early spring or 'latter' autumn rains, rain is a sign of divine blessing, on crops and on people. The early rains would prepare the ground for the planting of crops and the latter rains would ripen the crops before harvest. 

Rain as blessing has given rise to all sorts of theories about 'latter rain', as we are supposedly in the 'latter days' now, according to bible chronology ('last' days - literally, between the resurrection and the Second Coming of Christ). Is God sending some sort of latter rain on the church to prepare her for the Second Coming, as some Pentecostalists say? There's certainly been an increase in interest in the third person of the Trinity since the charismatic movement took off in the 1970s, along with a plethora of wacky theologies about different types of Holy Spirit blessing (aka latter rain theologies).

Rain also carries literary freight. Novelists and film makers employ the wonderfully named 'pathetic fallacy' whereby human emotions are attributed to nature. So a relationship begins to break down, someone's lover leaves, the grey clouds gather and it begins to rain. After he's destroyed his closest relationships, King Lear sits on the blasted heath. On the night that John Jasper sets out to murder Edwin Drood in Dicken's unfinished novel, a storm gathers, rain lashes the window casings. People have commented that when someone you love dies, and it rains, it almost feels as though nature is weeping with you. Not possible of course, but hard to get away from.

Though I don't much like getting wet, I like watching raindrops running down glass and listening to the sound of rain at night. 
When we spend so much time rushing about and worrying and controlling, and thinking everything we do is of vast importance, the sound of rain gives a sense of perspective about our smallness in the universe. Much of what we do will be undone, as Shakespeare knew: 'The rain it raineth every day'.*

Which could be a depressing thought, were it not actually true.

*ending of Twelfth Night.

Sensing Lent 19: Hands

We underestimate the sense of touch in worship. In an over sexualized society, we are perhaps naturally cautious about anything inappropriate. But touch is still powerful in the right context. On day 3 of the Oxford Diocese clergy conference today we had a chance to be anointed with oil during the Holy Communion service. Oil has long been used in Christian worship for healing and blessing. You simply hold out your hands and the person puts oil on each palm, praying:

'In the name of God, and trusting in his might alone,
Receive Christ's healing touch to make you whole.

May Christ bring you wholeness 
of body, mind and spirit,
deliver you from every evil,
and give you his peace.'

The open hands, the skin, receiving the touch of oil, given by another's hand.

There was also the chance to have the laying on of hands for prayer and blessing. This is again an ancient practice, used in Ordination, providing a tactile way to assure someone of God's help and power. At the New Wine summer conferences they always say keep your eyes open while you pray for someone - watch what God is doing in their face. I find this hard - it seems a bit like being a 'peeping tom' on something very intimate between that person and God.

Again, it's in the physical touch of hands that you feel God's own touch, which is not physical, exactly, but which is so much more than just a fuzzy feeling inside. That touch of God via someone else's prayerful touch is sometimes accompanied by other physical sensations - extreme relaxation, sighing, weeping or trembling, so that the whole body becomes involved. I don't think it's just me - it would seem to be a common experience when the Holy Spirit is afoot. It's just naturally supernatural.

So there were a lot of hands today - hands open, hands anointing, hands praying, hands blessing. A room full of 350 clerics's hands praying, anointing and blessing each other whilst receiving Christ in bread and wine (and singing) was, I have to admit, pretty powerful stuff, not to mention a fantastic feat of spiritual multi-tasking.

My only tip would be - next time can we have some fragranced oil? When I had anointing at the On Fire conference, 4 years ago, I smelt nice for days - but more importantly, I felt in some way for a while afterwards, that I was inhabiting the fragrance of the divine.

Lent for Extroverts 26: The power of positive

The power of positive thinking has always fascinated me. Are there some people who are just wired up for positivity, while others seem negative about life in general? The psychologist and family therapist, Robin Skinner, says you can tell in someone's face whether they are facing life with positivity or negativity because the tiny inflections of the face, of the eyes and brow and mouth, can eventually settle into a physical pattern so that smilers can be seen almost to be smiling at rest, while frowners, over time, can't get rid of that fierce or troubled look.

Actual in-flight smile air bound for Corfu.
See what I mean?
I may be praying here too.

Books on stress and anxiety suggest that you can actually raise your mood if you smile during a stressful experience, despite feeling like it's the last thing on earth you want to do, because the physical act of smiling, even whilst scared, releases endorphins or feel good hormones into the blood, thus lessening anxiety and lifting your mood. This is why, if you are unfortunate enough ever to share a plane journey with me, you will observe me smiling in a most unnatural, goon-like but I hope, effective, manner.

If it's possible to affect one's mood by smiling and thinking positive thoughts, perhaps its the same for the way we view church life. There are ways and ways of perceiving ministry: one day the emails can seem encouraging; the people we see are drawing near to God in good times and bad; the admin pile is a doddle to get through. On other days, the same set of circumstances can appear draining and difficult. What makes the difference? 

Ignatian reflection encourages an attention to what blesses us and what drains energy from us. It's much more subtle than 'work is hassle; free time is renewing'. You can be blessed in your work and drained by 'boredom' at rest or by entertainment overload. It's about recognising that God's will for us is blessing; not all good times and no suffering; but blessing. And we need to move in the general direction of the things in which we're individually designed to flourish. I will never be blessed by studying church law or accounts; but some will.

Widely regarded as a bit grumpy...

Positive ministry is not ministry devoid of sadness or difficulty - I would expect a funeral to be a 'positive' experience, if there is rapport with the relatives and a sense of God's presence in the preparation and execution (if there are too many funerals in one week and a sense that one is rushed and cannot do a good job, that's different). 

Positive ministry is one where encouragement abounds due to a sense of gratitude for all we experience, which is pure gift. Not everything hangs on me: I believe in collaborative ministry and that the buck stops with God. It is gratitude and the sense that it is not all about me that provokes positivity and a sense of well-being. To meet a negative person (or worse, cleric) is to see one for whom the stresses and strains of ministry have sucked all the spark out of life. This is not God's purpose for us, nor is it a great picture to present to the world.