Day 339 - Writing through it

 

My new book, The Parables of The Cold Island is now out in case you are struggling for an intelligent stocking filler. It is dedicated to my brother and his girlfriend. It has been informed by these blogs and by my feelings over the year. It is a continuation of my most important parable. They say that a lot of people (including myself) have been struggling to read long books since the pandemic. So, it is deliberately short.


Here is the blurb for it:

In the heart of a troubled island, where the very land itself aches with sickness, a King's iron-handed stubborn decree denies the one thing that can heal its people. In these two modern-day parables, author Nick White weaves a captivating narrative that transcends borders and whispers truths.

Delve into two tales that resonate with timeless allegory. Meet the King and his three children: two Princes who rebel, and a Princess who yearns for a warmth that cannot, seemingly, be attained. As the island's fate hangs in the balance, these parables will ignite your soul and awaken your senses.

An illustrated journey, this book is for every island… and every person.

As writing this has been part of my year, I am including it in these prayer strike blogs. If you want to take a look and read a sample it can be found here. It is in print, available as an ebook and available as an audiobook on Google Play/Books. Apart from that there is nothing significant to report.

Day 332 - Prayer addiction

 

What I hadn’t quite expected in this year of not praying was the sheer compulsion that seems to come from within me to pray.

I wanted to do a little research and find out if prayer addiction was an actual thing and could find very little.

There was some material online about ‘religious addiction’ – about people engaging in rituals and mood-altering disciplines in order to get a spiritual high. Most believers will feel guilty if they miss their prayer routine. But sometimes it can get out of hand. Sometimes ‘not praying’ can seem to be a performance-based thing.

It seems to me that religious-addiction can probably be helped by having hobbies and interests outside that of faith activities. But it all does have a habit of seeping into these unrelated activities too.

Of course, it is a relatively benign addiction. That’s why there is no information about it. It is only if you attempt to stop that you can get withdrawal symptoms. There is a culture in which it is positively encouraged to have a lengthy ‘quiet time’ every morning. If and when that is missed, the believer will often feel guilty. Or perhaps that it has not been a long enough amount of prayer.

The sin of ‘prayerlessness’ is very much a no-no in Christian culture. It is not entirely helped by our intrepid leader, who explicitly told people not the boast about the amount of time they pray (before ensuring that the book which told of how he went alone to pray so often would become a bestseller).

Long, public prayers are particularly frowned upon. Except we are not very good at not trumpeting our prayers. It has become a cultural thing now, but if the gospels are to be believed, it is the opposite of what used to be expected.

My prayers to God during this prayer strike have been brief and to the point. I haven’t secretly been praying all the time. I really am resisting the compulsion to pray. But there have been some brief ‘talks’. I’m not sure they have done much good. It is probably wisest to bawl my eyes out in prayer but that hasn’t happened. Besides, what then? Back onto the treadmill of prayer. First five minutes a day, then ten? Then half an hour, then an hour? I do think that prayer is a good deed and like all good deeds it should be voluntary. Not demanded or ordered or insisted upon.

It is, of course, none of my business what others do in private. (Unless it is maybe a murder or something.)

Anyway, there are other, far worse addictions which have even less of a capacity to fill the God-shaped hole. That, I imagine, is why no-one ever talks about it.

Day 325 - Ridiculous Thoughts

 

I'm not sure I particularly miss praying. It was never really a need anyway. Most people acknowledge that prayer is probably quite good for you, one way or the other. They say that it is effectively a form of meditation.

So much has been written about it. In faith circles it is supposed to include giving thanks, praising God, requesting things for others, requesting things for yourself, listening and expressing feelings.

They say that it doesn't really matter where you are, or how you position your body. It can be spoken or silent, written or voiced. I don't think it was ever a necessity but maybe there is something within me that is inclined to pray. It can be replaced with breathing exercises or journal entries or other things.

There are a lot of people who tell you how it should be done... and not done. Even the atheists usually admit that it is not necessarily time wasted in that it is helpful for mental and emotional health. I always felt it was more helpful to deviate from the formal prayers written by others.

I vividly remember watching some programme on TV in which a nun finally expressed to God her frustration at effectively giving over her entire life, including career, love life, time and all the rest in dedication to prayer and service. She said that during that prayer she did get a kind of answer from God. She sensed a reaction to her valid frustration. She said that she sensed a mild, not unkind, amusement. A sort of gentle smile. It was enough for this particular nun. She had got some kind of reaction and mild amusement at her dedicating her entire life to God was enough for her.

There are those of us who would not be entirely satisfied by mild amusement at a life given over to the service of God. That's why people like that will go on prayer strike. 'How amusing, this one is actually complaining'. Like the fickle ancient Greek gods might be amused at the questions and frustrations and sufferings of mere mortals. Or Zeus cracking a smile that a human being would have the arrogance to complain (and if they keep complaining, a lightning bolt is always useful). 

Perhaps that is the way God views this prayer strike. As mildly amusing. Like an ant engaged in self-defeating behaviour, raising its fist to Heaven… expected to count its blessings that it is not crushed underfoot. I suppose being ridiculous in the eyes of Almighty is better than him smiting you. We want to avoid that smiting. We do not like the smiting. It isn't funny. No smitey, Lordy.

Who knows? We are all encouraged to pray. Does our refusal really make much difference? Are we only hurting ourselves? 

My old pastor always used to say, 'Just make sure you are right with God’... A kind of 'Make your peace with God' type of thing.

But what do you do when you feel that God should get right with you? That he should make his peace with you?

Day 318 - Xmasphobia

 

As Christmas approaches, I'm having to learn how to navigate it considering that my brother died on xmas day. It is quite obviously one of those things which is impossible to avoid unless I were to leave the country.

It does seem to me to be quite an easy thing to develop an xmasphobia. A fear of Christmas is actually called Christougenniatikophobia - but it is such a mouthful that it is not surprising that it is largely an unknown word (though, I think the concept is very much known). I can see why so many people who have lost loved ones around this time of the year struggle so much. It is no longer 'the most wonderful time of the year'.

And still ringing in my ears, the words of the celebrant at Ads funeral, 'I believe there was a reason he died on Christmas day.' But as I thought at the time, 'I would like to know that reason. What was it?'

There is not much that I can offer in terms of tips on how to navigate Christmas if you don't like it. I have always, up until now, quite liked it and so I really don't know. Maybe read a good book to escape? I am unsure. I'm not sure which traditions to keep and which to jettison. Should I still send out cards? Should I still do presents and Christmas lunch and the whole social part of it? As ever, it seems like a lot of these things are not entirely voluntary anyway. Xmas pressure.

When they set up the annual Christmas German market in Birmingham, tears filled my eyes as I walked past it. I tried to avoid it at first. It felt a bit like psychological flooding. Face your fears, (whether you want to or not). There simply is no choice, I would have to leave this world to escape from Christmas. And besides, I don't want to never celebrate it again. There are many parts of the season which I still like.

In the hospital last year, I had given my brother a Christmas present, hung in a red Santa sock. It was nothing really, a necklace with a gecko pendant (my brother always a lover of reptiles and amphibians). Really, I just wanted there to be something cheery in the depressing hospital room. I knew at the time that Ad probably wouldn't get to open it. He didn't. His present for Christmas was not what any of us wanted.

I wish I could offer some helpful advice on how those who are grieving at this time of year should navigate Christmas, but I simply do not know. I don't currently feel that I have the luxury to do more than attempt to survive it.

There are only a few more blog entries left of this public yearlong prayer strike. I will leave them as a record of the things I have gone through this first year and my thoughts during this time. I will stop on Christmas day. I guess I will blog on the day itself, if I get the chance, and then my prayer strike will be less vocal. It will not be over, but I will not be blogging about it every week. I haven't really planned much beyond that. Perhaps I will return to the topic now and again as I will keep blogging.

Maybe somebody will find what I have written helpful. I hope so. Either way there will be a record here. I don't think I will try to publish these blogs into book format. There are other things I want to focus on.

So, how has God responded after 11 months of my prayer strike? I can sum that up in two words - deeply disappointingly.

So far…

Day 311 - Spiritual survival kits

 

It seems to me that on becoming a believer of any kind, an individual is given (or told to get) a plastic bag containing approximately three things to survive. They couldn't even be bothered with a rucksack, just a plastic bag - not particularly good for the environment but in some ways like gold dust. Inside the bag are a few items...

• The first is a walkie-talkie. Yes, an invisible one. The believer is usually told to pray to their god of choice. Except with far fewer incoming messages than outgoing ones. And a lot of interference.

• The second is a map. A Bible, a Quran, a Torah, The Vedas. Supposedly giving direction in various situations and often prone to being misunderstood and read the wrong way round.

• The third is shelter. A community of other believers. Churches, synagogues, mosques, temples even. Consider it a little like shelter if the storms outside are getting a little too intense and you are fed up trying to make a hat out of the plastic bag you were originally given.

Is there anything else in the plastic bag? Not much. Some people say that they receive spiritual gifts, but, for the most part, we are like Mirabel in Encanto and often do not receive a gift. Hey, maybe we should count our blessings to even get the plastic bag.

After that you are pretty much on your own. You are supposed to read your map, use your walkie talkie and not avoid the shelters, unless you've been locked up or something, in which case it is okay.

When I first became a believer (which, as I say, happened through a prayer), I wasn't given a plastic bag exactly. I was given a paper flyer saying when the next church service was and a warning that a coal which falls away from the other coals in a fire will no longer burn hot and red. They were times of immense change as I tried to adjust myself to a new landscape and worldview.

So, it is always a big no-no if a believer fails to use any one of the items within their plastic bag. Most of the sermons in the shelter are meant to encourage people to use their walkie-talkie or else read their map. If you are lucky, you might get told that you should take action based on the map’s directions to help you survive on your journey in the wild.

Believers can spend a lot of time looking to see if there is anything else in the plastic bag. As a spiritual tool-kit, the contents are sparse. Maybe climbing into the bag would act as a portal through which one might escape? No, it doesn't. There are no portals. And our God is invisible no matter how many times they tell us to keep our eyes on him. And when they say that, they just mean ‘use your walkie-talkie’ or ‘read the map’ or ‘go to the shelter’ anyway.

There is, of course, one last thing that I have neglected to mention. The presence of your chosen God. Think of your God like a companion or guide. Somehow... We are told... He/She/They is with us all the time, inside us even, and we are to be aware of that. We are told that this is a fact, however we feel. So, along with our often-faulty internal compasses, our consciences, we also have another guide, one who can bring peace and comfort and, who is, I imagine, trustworthy. Providing it is the Creator God we are talking about (The Creator God being kind of important). Given that God is supposed to be inside us, you might wonder why we are so often prone to making some quite catastrophic mistakes and treat others so badly. But that is because of ‘the enemy’ and his/her/their/its evil plans.

It is a fact that I am not currently using my walkie-talkie and that I am finding it difficult to refer to the map. I think, at this point, I’ve thrown the walkie-talkie into some soggy ditch. The map is so complex and not terribly helpful. I am not finding it terribly helpful, even when people post their favourite portions of it online in memes. But I know the map fairly well and have always been reasonably good at reading maps, from when I was a child, sitting in the back seat of the car with my brother and offering directions.

Of course, there are many maps. And there are many types of walkie-talkie (and channels and recipients of the messages).

Don't think that the survival kit is for the believers alone. Well, think what you like, but try not to express it at dinner parties. There are other things which people use to direct their lives. Like common sense. Or the declaration of human rights. Or a favourite self-help book. The road less travelled...

All kinds of plastic bags are handed out to all kinds of people. Each one believing that their map and walkie talkie are the best. As AI might say 'It is up to the individual to decide which map is the most accurate'.

And for those who eschew all maps and walkie-talkies? Well, I guess there are always the angels to protect from the pummelling rain and the saturating cold.

Maybe that’s all any of us really have anyway. A kind angel to be on our side through our life journey. To keep our personal demons far from us so that we don’t even have to listen to their uncaring voices.

Goodness knows that so many forces are not on our side in any meaningful way.

Like death himself, who is not entirely reasonable or helpful, whether we come to terms with him or not. And who does not seem to care about our various walkie-talkies, maps, shelters or plastic bags.

Maybe something else is hidden at the bottom of the bag? Like a shiny hope in Pandoras Box or something? Or a 1 terabyte memory stick containing a more helpful online map that everyone apart from us must surely know about? And the link to some more useful resources beyond mere words and stories...

I'm not sure if or when I will read my map or use my walkie talkie again (or try to dig it out from the ditch). The resources and provision given to most of us are, I feel, very threadbare.