We Have Ignition – Musings from the crew

We live in a busy world. In many ways, busy has become the norm. When you ask someone “how are you?”, how often does their reply contain some reference to being busy? Probably so often that we’ve stopped noticing. In many parts of society there seems to be a cultural expectation that we should be busy. One writer observes that this is so prevalent that “to not be busy is seen as strange or unproductive.” And it’s easy to buy into that, even unconsciously. We feel good when we get to the end of a long to-do list. Our natural instinct often is to commend or compliment a busy person, someone who’s always got something lined up on their to-do list. And this isn’t meant to knock any particular activity, or to condemn anyone who is busy. Many of the things we do are necessary and good things.

However, I was hugely struck by something in a sermon I heard recently. The preacher asked the question “Is there slack in your life. Have you got space in your life to be able to reach out to other people?” He told the story of an experiment carried out by psychologists who were looking into factors which make it more likely that people will stop and help someone else. As the preacher noted, the experiment was done in the 1960s, and probably wouldn’t pass the research ethics panel if it was proposed today, but even with that caveat, what it highlighted really startled me. In the experiment, a group of trainee vicars (!) were set the task of going to speak at a meeting in a location which was about 15 minutes’ walk away. Half the group was told that they had plenty of time and were expected there in about 45 minutes. The other half were told that they were pretty much already late and would really have to hustle to get there. Along the route the trainees would walk they placed an actor who pretended to have a heart attack as the trainee approached.

In the group who were told they were late, only one in ten of them stopped to help the person having a heart attack.

In the group who were told they had time, that number rose to six in ten. A sixfold increase in the number who stopped to help someone who could be dying, just because they felt they had more time. But even in that second group, four out of ten still didn’t stop. We don’t know for sure, but it seems reasonable to assume that having a task to perform – being busy – was at least part of the reason that those four in ten still didn’t stop.

I always rationalise to myself that it’s alright for me to be busy because, as long as I feel like I’m making enough time for my family, then the impact of the busyness is just on me. If I’m ok with running round from dawn to dusk like my hair’s on fire, then that’s then end of it, right? But this sermon really challenged me. If we are busy all the time, what do we miss? What gets drowned out by the noise? What do I walk past, justifying it because I have somewhere to be? Do I see the lonely neighbour who just needs someone to talk to, the colleague who’s really struggling at home? The everyday situations which desperately need someone to reach out with God’s grace.

If I’m honest, I tend to feel quite proud of how busy I am – I wear it like a badge of honour. So I’m not sure I have the answer. In fact I know I don’t. My natural inclination is to be task-focused, and combined with a bit of an all-or-nothing approach to life this tends to result in a cycle of being intensely busy and then collapsing in a ‘I need a break’ heap for a couple of days, before starting all over again. It gets things done, but it’s not terribly balanced. And it definitely doesn’t have slack or useful space.

For me, I think perhaps the first step is to work on allowing myself to have free time. Life isn’t the Olympics of Busyness. There is no gold medal for the longest To Do list. Changing how we respond to busyness in others might be a good thing too – commiserate but don’t congratulate. Think of busyness like a cold: Everyone’s probably going to catch it occasionally, but you don’t want it all the time. When you encounter someone who’s caught it, see if you can help.

Over the summer my family and I went to New Wine, and I ended up going to a seminar called ‘The Theology of Charismatic Worship’ led by a guy called Neil Bennetts, who is CEO of The Worship Foundation. He began by pointing out that the prerequisite to having a theology of worship was having an understanding of what worship was. He went on to suggest that one of the areas where the language and style of modern charismatic worship may not be particularly help with that understanding is in relation to the presence of God. We sing songs with lyrics like “Come Lord Jesus, come” and “Waiting here for You”, and prayers are voiced from the stage “inviting” or “welcoming” the Holy Spirit into the meeting. We talk about “coming into His presence”, or you might hear someone say (or even say yourself) “God was really there tonight”.

Does that mean that there are times when God isn’t really there? Does He wait for us to sing the right songs, say the right words or achieve the required level of fervent devotion before turning up slightly begrudgingly if He’s not too busy? Is His presence limited to a certain physical places?

The answer to all these questions is, of course, ‘No’. On some level I think we probably understand that the lyrics and words mentioned above are motivated by our desire to see more of God’s kingdom. But it’s still too easy to mistakenly slip into feeling that worship is at least in part a way of trying persuade God to be there. But if that’s not it, what really is worship? Eugene Peterson offers this definition:

The minute I heard it, I loved this definition. Several weeks on, I still love it. It elevates worship above and beyond just music and prayer, it takes it out of our meetings and our buildings and lets it be part of any and every aspect of our life. And most importantly, it removes from us that false burden of trying to persuade Him to be there. It reminds me that through the work of Jesus the presence of God has come out of the temple and into me. We don’t have to earn it or invoke it. We simply attend to that which is already there. Or as Neil phrased it “Worship 101 – our starting point: God is here and we are loved”.

To see more of Neil’s thoughts on this and related subjects, check out his blog.

I’ve been reading the book ‘Dirty Glory’ by Pete Greig recently. I haven’t finished yet, but so far I’d most certainly recommend it. It’s the follow-on to his previous book ‘Red Moon Rising’, and continues the story of his work as the founder of the 24-7 prayer network.

In a section titled ‘The Presence Paradigm’, I was particularly struck by his account of a conversation he had with Brennan Manning, priest and author of The Ragamuffin Gospel. Manning asked him “How do you know when you’ve prayed enough?”. Greig admitted that he didn’t really know, and that that sometimes led to feelings of guilt – if he didn’t know what enough was, then by implication he probably wasn’t doing it. I’ve been very struck by Brennan’s take on it:

"Let me tell you how we see prayer in the contemplative order. For us, the hour you might spend in the prayer room would be the one hour in the day when you don't pray.

It's like this; The hour you spend in the prayer room is when you refocus, re-centre on Jesus, becoming fully aware of his presence once again. When this happens, you can carry God's presence with you into the other twenty-three hours of the day, knowing all the time that He is with you, He is for you, He likes you and He hears your thoughts. You'll see the people and situations the way He sees them. When problems arise you'll pray in real time, right then and there instead of compiling prayer lists for a later holier moment. In fact your life will become that moment: a continual conversation with God."

Greig notes that this was a strange concept to someone who grew up in “a tradition that anchored prayer securely in an all-important daily devotional time”, and that echoed my response too. Whilst I have to admit that my devotional life is usually anything but daily, I realised that when I do manage to carve out space for a ‘quiet time’, I usually feel the need to fill it with words, either of praise or of petition. I don’t think I would ever want to fully abandon the practice of personal, quiet prayer, I was struck by Brennan’s ‘inversion’ – a devotional life which re-connects you with the Father to then enable a day-long conversation with Him, rather than ensuring that you’ve hit your required daily quota of prayer.

It turns out there’s something surprisingly freeing, but also very intimate, about just coming to God in the quiet without words, and without an agenda. I perhaps shouldn’t be surprised – our strongest and best earthly relationships are often with those we enjoy just spending time without without any specific purpose – the joy of the relationship is just in being with each other and experiencing together whatever might happen or crop up in the time you share.

Our change of name from 6 O’Clock Worship to Ignite was formally announced at our March service, so now we really do have ignition!

The response has been really good –  we did work quite hard to try and ensure that people were kept informed and understood why we were changing (and perhaps just as importantly, what wasn’t changing), so it’s been really great to get some positive comments back. One comment in particular has stuck with me – “I’m sure it’s no accident that this is the name you’ve chosen”. Our prayer has always been to see God at work in our lives and in the communities we live and worship in. Looking back over 4 or 5 years to the very first 6 O’Clock Worship it’s amazing to see the journey that God has brought us on and the things that we’ve seen Him do, and we can’t wait to see where he might lead us in this next phase.

Exciting times!

The band led worship at the Witney Filling Station last night. We were just a happy trio of keyboard, guitar and bass – we definitely missed our drummer and vocalist but we survived. For the first time, I attempted to operate the words computer using foot pedals whilst playing guitar. It was an interesting experience which made my brain feel like it was getting pulled in two directions at once! I think all the right words came up at the right time though, and hopefully my guitar playing wasn’t too badly affected.

The talk was give by David and Charis Baker from Trinity Church, Cheltenham, and they looked at Isaiah 43:

Forget the former things;
    do not dwell on the past.
¹⁹ See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland.

They had a strong sense that God wanted to rekindle our passion and vision – ‘I am doing a new thing!’ – but that sometimes the way we see and tell our story so far can blur our vision of what’s ahead. When we look at the promised land, do we tell a story of giants and impossible obstacles, or do we tell a story of an abundant land flowing with milk and honey?