Immersed

Author: andylord99

  • Thinking Prayer

    Thinking Prayer

    Most people pray – at least in desperate times! but what is prayer about? is it saying prayers in church? or having a conversation with God with whatever words come to mind? or being quiet and somehow peaceful? or crying out for help but struggling for words? Some question the usefulness of prayer when so much war and violence continues, when evil seems to triumph and when prayers are unanswered. Prayer raises questions about what sort of God we pray to: does this God need our prayers? where does Jesus fit in? what about the Spirit guiding us? If we pray then we can’t avoid thinking about prayer. Prayer and thinking go together, both centred on God.

    There are many good books that teach us how to pray but fewer books exploring prayer and thought, the practice of prayer and its links to theology. If you would like a challenge then have a look at Andrew Prevot’s 2015 book Thinking Prayer. To be honest, this is quite an academic work out! It is not a book for the feint hearted or those unwilling to delve into deep philosophical questioning. This will rule most people out! Yet it is a stunning book that faces the hardest questions and seeks positive ways of approaching the task of prayer – prayer that is thinking and transformative. My aim here is to give a summary for those interested, whether or not they take the challenge to read the book for themselves.

    In short, Prevot’s argument is simple: prayer relies on God being bigger than us! God is not just another element in the universe but the creator of all who does not easily fit into our thinking or schemes. This is the source of the great hope that God can bring change into a difficult world, but challenges our tendency to fit God into our busy lives and careful plans and raises other questions. In prayer the trinitarian God is free to speak and act, as indeed are we. Prayer is the interaction of these two freedoms, even if God is greater than us and works in us. This is a free creative work of love which draws us out of ourselves into a damaged world. Prayer shapes our action and thinking and is the vital heart of Christian faith.

    Prevot identifies a number of key crises in the contemporary (modern) world: the tendency to a reduced understanding of God, a simplified god who is easy to dismiss; the construction of idealised patterns of thought that dictate how life should be; and the violence required to sustain such ideals. We struggle as we become more secular in ways that prevent outside critique; we construct competing models of the ideal life that become idols to be defended; and this turns into violence from those in power towards those to see life differently. Given such a world, the question is: how can we live allowing for critique, being less defensive and more generous towards others? The answer Prevot works towards is: we pray.

    This is a summary of his complex argument about metaphysics understood as a rational kind of rational model/science that tries to encompass all, even God. Working against this are the moves to phenomenology and the critical work of Heidegger. Prevot seeks to go beyond Heidegger via Balthasar to suggest the need for a doxological approach to prayer. This prioritises relating to God in terms of glory and the word, often expressed in praise. These are ways of prayer that allow God freedom, a freedom that by nature chooses to listen and engage with creation.

    Prevot’s argument is always careful, detailed and nuanced. Yet he wants to move us from the abstract to think about how we might pray in ways that engage a violent world. He asks: have we thought about Christian nonviolent approaches in the world? have we contemplated what prayer means in relation to the Holocaust? have we asked how for the oppressed, prayer functions to aid the political need for liberation? and what has the black tradition of the spirituals born through slavery to say to us? When prayer becomes most theoretical we are faced with the challenge to learn from those who suffer most, those who often feel our questions most personally. In a violent world there are many who live in faith and prayer and find hope despite desperate situations – might we also learn not to let despair have the last word?

    The hospitality of black spirituality, seen through the lens of James Cone, offers Prevot the hope of a way beyond violence. Prayer seeks the hospitality of God more than the victory of one over another. This reality is beyond us and hence the need for a God who is both beyond us and yet active in all things. It is a challenge to those of us who are white and/or part of the (relatively and historically) powerful in the world. Hope in a violent world might be found as we enter imaginatively into the way the excluded and oppressed see things. We are to join them in prayer for a better, more holy and just world in which the freedom of all can be respected and brought together.

    Prevot provides a manifesto for a certain way of theology, prayer and spirituality. It is an outstanding academic achievement that manages to motivate action. I continue to be inspired by its argument even as I recognise its limitations: its abstract style that seems at odds with its argument; its simplification of ‘metaphysics’ to an easy to critique definition; its limited scriptural engagement; the struggle for ‘doxology’ as praise to embrace lament and human suffering; and the lack of any personal sharing by the author in which this approach to prayer makes sense. We could do with some stories and examples!

    World news present many questions. Prayer doesn’t avoid these but is a way of entering more deeply into the problems with the God who is both above and within all. Prayer stretches our thinking to encompass new insights. Prayer challenges our love for others. Prayer is difficult, yet we can take heart that there are others on the journey. We can learn from both the struggling and the academics. It is worth persevering with both to maintain a sense of freedom and hope in a world that often wants to limit and exclude people.

    Praise God who hears the cries of all people, relates to us and acts through us for the liberation of creation.

    Bibliography: Andrew Prevot, Thinking Prayer, University of Notre Dame, 2015; See also the less philosophical but still academic work of Ashley Cocksworth, Prayer: A Guide for the Perplexed, T&T Clark, 2018.

  • Mysticism in the World

    Mysticism in the World

    I was browsing a second hand bookshop when I came across Simon Critchley’s “On Mysticism.” On reflection, it seemed a very good place to discover a work dedicated to exploring Christian mysticism but from a context outside of church life. Critchley is a professor of philosophy who confesses to an “intense curiosity for religion” despite agreeably spending most of his life in a secular world hostile to religion. Despite the “death of God” Critchley can’t quite escape the sense that there is “something more” than the rational – the ecstatic which is of great value.

    As we might expect of a professor, Critchley has done lots of reading! He draws much from Bernard McGinn’s rich and multi-volume survey of Western Christian mysticism, taking on board the way mysticism combines both theology and experience. At the same time he has a yearning for the classic work of William James that focuses on religious experience. These come together in Critchley’s focus on Julian of Norwich whose early intense experiences of God were followed by years of prayerful and theological reflection. Her shorter and longer Showings are creatively explored with an interest in how God is made visible through experience, how the divine is shown through the material. Critchley takes this further through engagement with Anne Carson, Annie Dillard and TS Eliot. How is it that the mystical experience of the ‘beyond’ results in the most personal of writings yet writings in which the human author seems most transparent and almost disappears? Critchley recognises that the theology of incarnation is key, drawing as it does on a belief in Jesus as fully human and fully divine. This transforms our view of matter and enables us to be immersed in the reality of the world whilst at the same time being immersed in the infinite reality of the divine.

    The impact of this on the understanding of philosophy is important for Critchley who sees philosophers as suffering “a fantasy of return to the origin,” the original texts and ideas, whereas mysticism gives us “an ongoing, transformative history of reception” (255). Philosophy often seeks a total explanation whereas mysticism is built from an abundance of fragments of experience and writings. Critchley argues that philosophers need to stop treating mysticism with distrust and distain but rather allow themselves to be challenged by its immediacy, excess and worldliness. There seems a glimpse of the current Western cultural movement towards a reappreciation of religion.

    However, for Critchley God is still dead. So what is he to do with mysticism? Translate it into forms of aesthetic experience that engage the whole of life, with something critical to communicate to the economics that dominate the world (267-285). There is a perhaps sudden shift here to the post-punk music of Julian Cope, the hearing of which have provided Critchley with mystical experience that combined with thinking brought an “idiot glee,” the “sheer mad joy at the world” that brings “releasement, detachment, enjoyment, peace, and rest” in a challenging world (285). Here is a testimony to the power and hope of mysticism. It may still find it hard to take personal steps to immersion in a known God but it helps clear the way to understanding why such steps are possible and make sense.

    Bibliography

    Simon Critchley, On Mysticism: The Experience of Ecstasy, Profile, 2024

    Rowan Williams, The Meaning of Ecstasy, New Statesman, December 2024. This is a good review of Critchley’s book that reflects more on the nature of ecstasy and ‘decreation.’

    Bernard McGinn, Foundations of Mysticism: Origins to the Fifth Century, Crossroad Publishing, 1991

    William James, Varieties of Religious Experience, 1902

  • Spirit-Led Encounter

    Spirit-Led Encounter

    Looking through my inbox earlier this year I noticed there was a new email which seemed to come from myself! Andrew Lord had email’d Andy Lord and it was a surprise to find that there was someone with the same name living in Australia. What is more, we shared an interest in the work of the Holy Spirit in life and ministry. Andrew had noticed my booklet Living Healing and graciously got in touch. Would I like to chat and perhaps record a podcast? Sounded interesting so we talked and it turns out that Andrew produces a regular podcast on Christian leadership and we had a number of interests in common.

    I have to admit that I do not often listen to podcasts! but with Andrew I discovered they are a good way of exploring the questions that often come up in spiritual life and ministry: What might it mean to be led by the Holy Spirit? How do we live with the awareness of Jesus with us each day? What problems have we faced and how have they shaped us? Which things are vital if we have leadership roles? Our 40 minute edited podcast enabled us to ponder such questions and help us to learn. Why not take a listen and join in our learning?

    https://www.andrewlord.com.au/post/andrew-lord-interviews-andy-lord-a-conversation-about-being-spirit-led

    We learn so much in talking with others about the questions of life and faith. We can see the church as the community of people that live the questions with each other and with God. It is a diverse and dispersed community with many perspectives. Maybe it could be seen as a mix of interacting podcasts through which we are enabled to see things differently and grow in faith. I suppose much of my writing has come out of such conversations and the questions I have been struggling to answer. We need people of different ages and cultures to shape and challenge us if we are to grow more like Jesus.

    To be led by the Spirit is to encounter fresh ideas, opportunities and people amidst the everyday. It is to be drawn into an ever expanding vision of the church as a world-wide community. It is something to pray for and gratefully accept. As John V Taylor put it, the Spirit as the Go-Between God is always connecting us to life in all its fullness and variety to the glory of God. May this podcast help us reflect together on the connections and wisdom we share together.

  • For the good of creation

    For the good of creation

    What provides the anchor for our lives? Life comes with many ups and downs that can leave us feeling adrift. Often it is the love of others that roots and sustains us through all things. The late Queen Elizabeth II once said that her favourite Bible verses came in Paul’s letter to the Romans, where he affirms that “nothing can separate us from the love of Christ” (Rom 8:35-39). In a life of many changes and challenges the love of God that is seen in Christ provides a sure and safe anchor. This is the love that gave everything on the cross that we might know life and salvation. These are good verses to meditate on, the culmination of a chapter that starts by affirming that “there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (8:1).

    It was with these thoughts in mind that I bought the recent book by Tom Wright about “the heart of Romans” which looks at this whole chapter. The book itself is a bit of a mix – not quite popular (Greek is helpful!) and not quite academic (not enough Greek and references!). But what struck me in reading this book was it showed how Romans 8 is not just about God’s love for me, but about how we are created in love for the good of all creation. At a time when creation is struggling what we need are ways of life and faith that are both realistic and hopeful. This chapter starts and ends with the great hope of a divine love that will overcome all the obstacles and establish the inheritance from God of a new heavens and a new earth. But this promise is lived out in a world in which we struggle to do the good that is needed and a creation which is groaning, subject to the frustrations of not being all it was created to be 98:20,22). Given the environmental crisis this image of the world resonates with the science and feelings of the present reality.

    But what are we to do? Wright likes to challenge those who believe there is nothing we can do, saying we need to wait for a future heaven. Rather, he points to the verses that speak here of the good way of life we need to live now (8:2-13). God fills us with the Holy Spirit and leads us that we might be changed for the better. We need to listen and follow the good ways (the law of the Spirit), turning away through our lives from what harms creation. More than this, we are to lament with the pain of the world in the way shown us in the Psalms (8:22-27). There can be wordless cries of pain, frustration and loss in and through which the Spirit is interceding with us towards a better creation. Just as in creation the Spirit hovered over the darkness to bring light and life (Gen 1) so always God has been working to bring together a people of the Spirit who will bring light and life to the whole of creation. This is our vocation which is lived out in the glory of weakness, in the way of the cross, that the hope of the resurrection may become real (as in John’s Gospel). Here is a realistic yet hopeful way for the good of all.

    Wright sketches out the whole biblical narrative with many detailed references to show how God has sought to fulfil this purpose through history. The great themes of creation, fall, exodus, exile and return we see in the Old Testament are transfigured by Paul in the light of his experience of Jesus the Messiah and the Holy Spirit. The maturity of Wright’s book lies in its integration of many themes in ways that resonate and search us deeper. This is built on meticulous analysis of virtually every word of the chapter and so is not an easy read. Whilst I’m not convinced by all his arguments and it feels rather dated in its assumptions, it is a great stimulus to read the Bible afresh and integrate it better with our practice.

    Wright translates verse 28, “God works all things together for good with those who love him, who are called according to his purpose.” This may be different to other translations but there are good reasons for it. Facing the challenges of life in a time when creation is groaning, we can be assured that “God works” in ways that bring “all things together for good.” This is the God of never ending, generous love who works for the life and assurance of all. God works this out in the way of Jesus and by the Spirit with us. We are part of the way forward, a vital part of the way in which God seeks to bring the good purposes of creation into being. It is not a way that avoids pain but rather a journey with Jesus in the ways of weakness, groaning, intercession, lament and prayer… that fuels our actions with others for a better world.

    Our anchor is the love of God that we see in Christ made real by the Spirit. Yet it is not an anchor that chains us down but sets us free to keep praying and working for the good of all. May we be set free that the glory of God may be seen in and through us for the good of all creation.

  • Pausing in the Ordinary

    Pausing in the Ordinary

    Walking down through the woods, past the worn oaks which have seen many years pass, a narrow gap leads through to a small open glade with a seat to pause on. In spring it is the home for a rare orchid but now into summer it appears a thriving rush of greenery. It is as if every tree and bush is reaching out towards the sun, stretching to try and make use of the space. You can almost hear the lively Thames running steadily nearby. Maybe one day I will glimpse one of the local deer, but most often it is an ordinary place that most walkers travel on past.

    Each month I force time into the diary to walk to the top of Wittenham Clumps, the site of a previous Iron Age fort, then down through an open field and into the woodlands. It is local to us, but seems to span time and provide the outlook I need in order to put life into perspective. Pausing in the ordinary glade is part of my routine, having had time on the walk to shed the concerns that currently ride the surface of my mind. I need the ordinary so that I might be better grounded in life and immersed in God. I simply sit and look, noticing the life that is brought to the trees, plants and grass by the breeze, skies and earth. A steady life which proceeds whether I see it or not. Reminds me of the God who is always there, always with us, active in creative love.

    We are increasingly encouraged to take walks and notice nature as the stresses on our mental health increase. Mindfulness has become a growth industry. The irony is that it is not about growth in the usual sense but a slowing down to see what is already there. It is not another task added to life so that we might progress but the reality of life as it already is. We train our minds to slow down and notice what is around us, the life that continues, refreshes and sustains all things. It is a cultural and political challenge to the way we have done things in the modern Western era. To pause in the ordinary is no easy option nor an avoidance of social challenge.

    The Christian tradition places practices of silent awareness within an understanding of the God who is always present and active everywhere, in and through all things; the God who invites us into conversation, speaking to us; the God revealed to us in Jesus who immerses us in the Holy Spirit. In the Bible, the Spirit is often linked with life and creation. The call to be immersed (baptised) in the Spirit is therefore to become aware that the ordinary is filled with the glory of God. Often, words that draw us close to Jesus help us to see this such as use of the Jesus Prayer. The awareness of God in Christ by the Spirit may be felt or not but is real. The vital next step is that we then listen to God speaking, tentatively discerning the voice that is so close yet beyond us. This might lead to a conversation, maybe even a debate, as we are nudged and enabled to do something. To be content with awareness, separated from listening, conversing and acting can be to miss out on the practical, social and political implications of seeking to be immersed in God and the world.

    As I sit in the glade, I notice the way that the light creates patterns on the ground through the leaves and branches. Fast changing, twinkling, swaying images that have a beauty beyond capture. I can almost imagine the leaves absorbing the light and turning it into energy. Beginning to lose myself in the present my body eases and my mind finds greater peace. It takes time to hear the still silent voice inviting me to ungrasp my hands from one of the strategy papers I’m working on. I’m reminded of the words of Jesus, “Why do you worry? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labour or spin” (Matthew 6:28). My planning may be useful but not the solution to all the problems! I need to allow the Spirit to be at work more through the words of others; to allow people to make mistakes; to pray and trust God.

    I leave the glade a bit lighter and glimpsing better ways of acting in the church and world. Heading down towards the Thames I enjoy the simple beauty of creation, marvelling at the unchanging yet ever fresh working of God through the centuries and across this land. May I praise and listen more through each day.

    (c) 2025 Andy Lord

    Further reading: Peter Tyler, Christian Mindfulness: Theology and Practice, SCM 2018. Martin Laird, Into the Silent Land, DLT 2006. Simon Barrington-Ward, The Jesus Prayer, BRF 2007.

  • The Importance of Place

    The Importance of Place

    There is great pleasure in the simple five minute walk from our house to the church hall. Past the field which, in spring, sees the central tree surrounded by a circle of yellow flowers and a border of free flowing grass. Alongside the medieval church with its memories and embodied worship; the 1,000 year old yew tree that hints at life stretching further back; and the modern churchyard with chance to meet and chat. Sounds then of children on the playground and glimpses of people focused on their walk to the railway station or army barracks. I find a gentle invitation to be immersed in what is around me rather than on what is next on the todo list.

    Walking requires good pauses and yesterday I found myself chatting with a neighbour about the many people who follow similar walks to myself, if often with dogs or families in tow. We reflected about how at a time of such difficult world news and the many mental health challenges people face, that walks that restore us have become more vital. The area surrounding the church represents the old village of Didcot, a small village of a few hundred people with its church and five surrounding farms. It has a deep time history that is often lost in its busy present reality of a town of 30,000 people. As it grows over the next 15 years to over 60,000 people the contrast between the town as a whole and particular walking spaces will get greater. Maybe around the church and old village there is an oasis of refreshing.

    Particular places to walk, ponder and chat are key to life. Life is not just a generic term but embodied in specific landscapes. We need to be immersed in the living world, not as if we can go anywhere but within the details of the places we can go. It may be our garden; for those in a local care home it is a balcony overlooking a playground; dog walkers might embrace parks and churchyards; longer distance walkers will discover river walks and trails that go back hundreds of years. To limit ourselves to a few places and routes opens up the opportunity of really seeing them, observing the detail, noticing the changing seasons. It is so expand our understanding of life but takes discipline. We have to move, to slow down and observe, to think about what we see and to allow ourselves to simply enjoy being where we are. To stop scrolling and see how much we can see around us.

    Interestingly, these disciplines are similar to those of lectio divina, the traditional form of monastic meditation. This has been focused on reading biblical and other texts – slowing down, reading and re-reading the texts, noticing what stands out, pondering the meaning and in silence simply enjoying being. This is all done within the presence of God whose love is known in joy and amidst sorrow, in words and through silence. So some speak of visio divina, seeing the divine in and through all things. This goes beyond a mindful observation of life to a hearing of God’s gentle voice that might stir our actions, and a Spirit-filled energy in which we find ourselves changing and growing. Life is not static and an immersion in oasis places through walking and pausing meditation opens us to hope for the future.

    In the Gospel of John, Jesus challenges people to see truly. Most people would say that they see the living world and notice the needs of others, but I am too often like those who kept busy and speaking in ways that cover up my blindness to what is around (John 9). It is often those who live with most struggle and limits that can teach us how to see better. So I’m trying to better notice those who can help me to discern God through the living world. I’m trying to seek out the oasis places which open my eyes and heart.

    (c) 2025 Andy Lord

    Further reading: The Franciscan tradition has much to say in how we might be immersed in creation, see the creatively wandering book of Dan Riley & Stephen Copeland’s Franciscan Lectio. A more focused approach is that of Esther de Waal, Lost in Wonder.

  • Review of “Is a River Alive”

    Those of us used to reading and re-reading Robert Macfarlanes writings are familiar with different streams of thought being explored even as they merge together into a journey of discovery which flows over us to produce fresh ways of seeing and living. His latest and well publicised work on rivers takes a slightly different approach that entices or disappoints depending on our expectations and background. It is as if he has pared back the tributaries to focus on the flow of three main world rivers and the obstacles they face. This has created space to expand the narratives of the others who share and inspire his journey, nurturing hope for a living world that is being systematically polluted.

    What is the aim of this journey? Partly to explore the nature of “life” as it relates to rivers in conversation with the global Rights of Nature movement as it seeks to protect such life through local, legal and political initiatives. It seeks languages for animacy and is a work of pondering the questions, raising objections and ultimately finding answers in lives lived and rivers experienced. More than this, it moves from facts and science towards feelings and transformations. This is the way Macfarlane sees his own journey as a rational modernist, tempted to “live in his head,” towards a greater participation in something greater than himself, beyond and yet within the matter of a river… to be “rivered.” This is a kind of spiritual journey inspired through the animism of some of those he travels with, although there is little depth to the spiritual and religious insight despite the climax of the book being a profound experience that continues to shape Macfarlane.

    The form of the book seems a refined development of that of his last book, Underland, if with fewer landscapes; the content of the book appears to revisit the sublime from his first book, Mountains of the Mind, if redirected to an experience of rivers. As usual, Macfarlane shows a profound grasp of language with the poetic description often inviting a contemplative amazement. The way he seeks to shape sentences and paragraphs in ways inspired by rivers will need repeated re-reading to fully appreciate. The gentle way he desires to face the harsh realities whilst nurturing hope is an education in sensitive learning. These come out of his amazing friendships with remarkable people, conveyed through longer narratives that at times struggle to carry the weight of thoughts and emotions placed on them. It is as if Macfarlane is stretching himself in a new direction and is still finding his way.

    Rather than seeing this book through the publishers hype of greatness, I would suggest it is better read as the humble start of a fresh journey. In the flow of this journey our weaknesses are as important as our achievements. It is book particularly suitable to those struggling to immerse themselves in the world, given a cultural background of standing above it, seeing its value in primarily financial terms. It is also helpful for those seeking to go beyond the secular towards the sense of “something more” that is beyond us. We can see ourselves alongside Macfarlane being drawn into a greater sense of the life of the world and drawn outwards towards what lies beyond materialism, rationalism and capitalism that might reshape them all. The book focuses more on the first of these and the travel into what lies beyond requires much deeper resources than are provided in the vague animism mentioned. Whilst leading the way into a better understanding of the living reality of nature the book is only a first tentative step into exploring the divine Life glimpsed in landscape. There are many tributaries from the Christian spiritual tradition that can feed and nourish a deeper journey that would take this book forwards.

    We can be grateful for Macfarlanes willingness to step out in new ways, stretch his impressive writing ability even further, risk admitting his need to change and grow, and find creative ways of working with others for the good of the living world in times of crisis. This book can be a means of taking forward our immersion in the world if best read alongside books by those more used to articulating the varieties and creativity of spiritual experience. I found myself longing that Macfarlane had explored more here and challenged to attempt to articulate better what is missing. May the living waters of the Spirit lead us all in risky ways of experiencing creation and developing together for the good of all.

    (c) 2025 Andy Lord

    Further reading: Andy Lord, Landscape, Soul & Spirit, SLG Press, 2025. A very good academic contemplative study is Douglas Christie, Blue Sapphire of the Mind, OUP. There is also the more popular but stretching approach of Beldan Lane, The Great Conversation, OUP 2019.