Village Shepherd

I've worked with a number of priests in my time, and often wondered how some of them are able to sleep at night. Some of the problems that arise in parishes, especially to do with people and relationships, can be very damaging and hurtful, yet some of these priests seemed totally oblivious to any hurt either inflicted by them or received by them. When I've asked them how they manage to remain so unaffected by the many problems surrounding them, they've all replied that they give all their problems over to Jesus at the end of the day and then fall asleep. I wish I could do that.

"What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and grief to bear, what a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer." So runs the old hymn, and so says the author in today's reading from the first letter of Peter. At the same time the author exhorts his readers to be self-controlled and alert, and then come some further words which are familiar to those who know the gentle, late-night service of Compline: 'your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith.'

The language sounds medieval, but are the sentiments still relevant in the 21st century? Is there an evil force prowling round trying to devour us like a roaring lion, or is that just an excuse for our state of sin which perhaps we'd prefer not to acknowledge, and the measure of our inability to hand everything to God in prayer?

As a child I always thought it was easy to carry everything to Jesus in prayer and to hand over complete control of my life to him, but now I'm not so sure. Now I think it's much easier to retain some measure of control over my own life, even over my worries, than it is to relinquish total control into God's hands. And perhaps as a child I only thought I was carrying it all to Jesus. I've since discovered that the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, so to speak. I want to dump everything on God in prayer and forget about it, but I still find myself lying awake at two in the morning, with my mind going round and round and round my problems.

And perhaps this is where and how evil enters into the scheme of things. As long as God is in total control of my life, everything should be fine. But if in some ways I keep God out, even unknowingly, perhaps that means I'm allowing evil in.

Not that I think a life lived with God is a life free from problems and difficulties. On the contrary, it often seems to be that once somebody really turns to God and discovers God to be real, and a two-way communication with God is set up in which God clearly respond to prayer, then that person begins to discover real problems in life. But it's also true that we grow through problems and difficulties. Although they seem horrendous at the time, and most of us would do anything to avoid the pain landed on us through problems, when we look back, it's often precisely those times of difficulties which have somehow brought us closer to God. As Jesus himself showed us, crucifixion which is endured and faced right through to the end, results in resurrection or new growth.

Perhaps this is because when we're at our wits' end and have nowhere else to go, we can't help but turn to God. We're stripped of all our defence mechanisms and all our comforts and all our unrealities, and flung into God's arms. And when we're forced through circumstances to allow God total control over our lives because there's no other route to take, then we grow and blossom and mature, and for a brief time at least become something like the persons we were destined to be.

I've recently been reading "How to Practise", a book by His Holiness the Dalai Lama on the philosophy and practice of Buddhism. Although it has many differences, Buddhism has some similarities to Christianity, particularly in the social aspect of caring for the weak and vulnerable. And Buddhists learn to go deep within themselves by meditation, as Christians may do when Christians are seeking God. Some of the book details techniques for practising meditation, and I do believe we Western Christians can learn a great deal about how to still the mind and how to meditate from our Buddhist friends. Their particular technique is based on the aim of emptying the mind, so that it concentrates only on the object of meditation, which is fine but may have its own limitations. Jesus warned of the dangers of cleaning the house but leaving it empty (Matthew 12:43-45). When (or if!) the mind is cleared, it needs not to be left empty but to be filled with God if we're going to avoid our enemy the devil prowling around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.

One of the problems for me is that meditation is difficult. If I begin to meditate in order to cast all my cares upon Jesus, I find that my mind immediately leaps straight to the problems and I find myself going over and over them in my mind instead of concentrating on God. But this problem can be minimised by using a meditation or relaxation tape, or meditating upon an object such as a candle flame, and by making sure that physical conditions are helpful. It's no good trying to concentrate upon God if you're cold or cramped or uncomfortable or tired, or if the telephone is likely to ring at any moment.

Although I'm not very good at doing it, I'm convinced in my own mind that meditation offers a means of casting all your cares upon Jesus and of filling your mind with God. It's a way of reducing and coping with stress, and it leads to a state of self-control and alertness. And as Peter said, when this happens the God of all grace will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. This makes it very worthwhile learning to meditate, and regularly practising the presence of God, for God brings to human beings riches far beyond imagining. It takes perseverance and practice, but it's the best way I know of obeying St Peter and casting all my cares upon Jesus. And learning to do that is resurrection and blessing indeed.