Insecurity [Grace] Identity

Another week of Lent, another blog. I thought, in fact, that I had run out of things to say and, since I have not yet finished the book I'm currently reading, I didn't even have a review I could muster to fill this (admittedly irregular) posting schedule. As always seems to be the case at the moment, however, something occured to me - I would suggest 'was given to me', but I don't want to claim any authority I do not have - and I realised I have another post in me after all.

But first, the usual update: no fiction consumed, several more sermons listened to, prayerfulness increasing (ish), a greater knowledge of God's presence gained , an increasing eagerness to talk about faith and issues surrounding it growing within me... This isn't to say, however, that it has been easy, or that I haven't struggled with the temptation to break my Lent, or skip a bible reading opportunity; nor is it to say that all those positive fruit seen above abound every moment, or even every day. Sometimes this feels very stale. Sometimes God still feels distant. Sometimes I just don't care as I should. This is, sadly, normal for humans. It shouldn't be, but then that's why we need God's grace, which brings me neatly to my topic for today - or it will be seen to have done, by the time I have reached my conclusion, because we'll start, as we almost always do, not with grace, but with a moment of human weakness.

I'm part of a group of young men in my church who are working together, under the oversight of our Minister, to learn and to improve our preaching skills, or rather, handling the Bible in a number of different, public ministries. Part of this has involved doing a three week stint of leading the morning services - welcoming everyone, introducing hymns, praying and generally aiding in bringing the congregation worshipfully before God.

I have not yet done this, ostensibly because of the birth of my daughter and the time commitment having a small baby entails. One morning this week, however, when the minister mentioned it to me and noted that it might be difficult to find a block for me with my Sunday School commitments, I let slip the real reason: "Also, it's terrifying!" I said.

Now, standing up on front of people is always going to pretty scary, I understand, but as I contemplated this afterwards, I realised it wasn't primarily stage fright I was suffering from, but a much deeper insecurity about church leadership. I don't feel like I'm qualified to lead a congregation of Christians in anything. Now, putting aside for a moment the relevance of a concept like qualification with regard to Christian ministry, why do I feel this way?

I think there are a number of factors involved, and if you'll forgive me going on about myself like this (I'm the only person I know will enough to use so an example, after all), these are the ones I think are the biggest issues:

1) I'm acutely aware that I don't come from a Christian background and, despite the fact that I became a Christian when I was only eleven, I didn't really get heavily involved in a church community until I moved to Aberdeen to go to university. Even though that was over eleven years ago now, I still feel rather new at this.

2) I have a somewhat more liberal approach to faith and politics than many of my brothers and sisters in the congregation. I'm still very much an evangelical, and newspapers would happily label me as a conservative Christian, but I believe that the church should not legislate the lives of non-Christians and so take a back seat at times in some of the more controversial debates of the day.

3) I have a scientific background. Even before I became a Christian, I thought myself to be a kind of scientist and used that as an excuse not to listen to what my Christian friends were trying to tell me about God. Once I was on the other side, however, whole other issues came up, most notably the ongoing Creation vs. Evolution debate, which hit me hard, and left me feeling rather lonely, during the evolutionary biology parts of my Zoology degree. I have since reconciled science and the Bible to my satisfaction (mostly), but I still feel a sense of separation from many I worship with when I wonder how they'd feel about my position on these issues.

4) I am a geek. I love sci-fi and fantasy, video games, graphic novels, and so on. I've kinda touched on this before and it might not sound like much of a barrier, but in my mind, knowing that I don't share the secular interests of most of the rest of my fellowship further adds to my sense of myself as 'outsider'.

Ignore, at this stage, whether or not I might be right about any of this and just imagine how I might then feel to lead any group of Christians in worship, prayer, or studying the word of God and you begin to see what kind of terror it is that I've been experiencing.

But if you're one of the people who have been shouting at the screen by this stage you'll already see why I need a radical change in my perception of the situation. All of the above presupposes several things:

1) That all kinds of spiritual leadership require qualifications beyond a saving faith in the triune God. Yes, there are helpful theological qualifications and there are gifts and talents bestowed and developed in the believer by God, but if He sends you, then you go. Many biblical figures questioned their fitness to be leaders when God called them (Moses is the typical example) but God didn't call them because of their fitness, He called them because He knew what He would do with them and that it was good.

2) That personality traits, political views, scientific understanding, matters of conscience, hobby choices, intelligence quotient, imagination or lack thereof and any number of other supposed identity markers matter in the the grand schemes of the Kingdom of God. Yes, we're all individuals, and yes what makes us different is both part of God's gloriously diverse creation and a cause of no small amounts of frustration and strife between believers, but neither the believer, nor the church, acquires its identity from any of these things.

Our identity is found in our trinitarian God: God the Father, Jesus Christ His Son, our Saviour and the Holy Spirit, our comforter, counsellor and advocate. The Church is united to each other and to Christ and that means we can put aside our differences in his presence when they would threaten to separate us.

3) That it really matters what others think of me. Given the above two points, I need to keep reminding myself that though others opinion of me can affect my witness and leadership, it should certainly not hinder my attempts at it, especially within the church. I do not present myself, but point to God. If someone doesn't like the way I do that, or some other facet of my being, all I can do is keep pointing to God. "Don't look at me, " I must shout, "look at Him!"

And this brings me back to the start of all this, the thing that holds all those points together, and which should be foremost in our minds when we deal with other believers. God's good grace. It is by grace that we are saved to be united with Christ as part of His Church, by grace we are called to serve and by grace given the gifts to carry out that calling. There is nothing of us in that save what God gave us in the first place, for we are His creatures, His children.

And we must try to treat other believers with that same loving grace, knowing that it is at work in them as in us and whatever our pasts, personalities, politics or pastimes, we would not even be in the Church without the grace of God. There but for the grace of God go I, after all.

And so to my terror. It is wrong. It is a sign of a lack of trust in God, of an insecure worldly way of thinking that has no place in a life lived in Christ. I must put it behind me and step up to the calling that has been made, to the increase of God's glory and the diminution of the self. I know what I need to do, I just pray for the courage and commitment and, above all else, the grace - all from God - to carry it out.

Until next time, go well.

The FAILblog

Failure. There's a word that's sure to dampen your day. Even with the humorous connotations associated with the word FAIL these days (such as that promoted by the site referenced in my title), phrases like "You failed" and "You're a failure" hurt. They hurt a lot.

We don't like to fail and we don't like to think about, or talk about failure unless it is someone else's. Then it becomes a piece of tragic drama we can watch unfold in fascinated sympathy, or a mean-spirited comedy designed to make ourselves feel better.

But we all fail, whether we'll admit it willingly or not (and of course we might be magnanimous enough to admit it generally, yet never specifically) and so failure is an important part of human experience. I'm here today to talk about my failure and to explain why it is so important to recognise and yet so ultimately irrelevant (from the right perspective).

What is my failure? I broke my Lent this weekend past.

There are two common attitudes to such an admission. The first is to say, 'oh well, it doesn't really matter' and to either give up or to carry on as if nothing had happened.  The second attitude is to treat it as something very, very serious, to beat oneself up about it, get depressed and then to either give up, feeling a failure, or to carry on with the sense of tarnished accomplishment.  Both of these attitudes are wrong and I will explain why shortly, but firstly, how and why did I break my Lent?

I was away over the weekend visiting family.  It was the first opportunity for us to take our daughter over to Northern Ireland to see my side of the family.  For me, going back over to Northern Ireland is a little like an act of mental time travel.  I return, not only to where I am from, but also, in some senses, to what I was like.  You see my family do not live in a manner particularly similar to the way I live now, in a number of ways, and, though I love them all dearly, they are (mostly) not Christian.

So, when I visit my parents, I can expect the television to be on most of the day.  When I visit my brother, I can expect there to be a film playing on his (enormous) screen.  It is a world filled with distractions of the kind this Lent is supposed to be an escape from, and whilst much of what was on TV at my parents was the usual daytime assortment of house auctions and holiday horrors, there were also soap operas, hours of them (and I don't even like them) and the temptation to watch that which I enjoy.

I actually broke my Lent several ways, and whilst I can list the reasons for all of it (TV on all the time, not wanting to be anti-social by leaving the room, unable to focus on theology/bible because of distractions, etc.) these are, at best, just excuses designed to hide the more basic truth - I am a sinner, and, if given enough opportunity, I will turn away from God.  It wasn't my family's fault, in anyway - what they were doing was not wrong - it was all mine.  This is perhaps best summed up in my attitude to my quiet times over the weekend, which hardly happened at all.  Why?  Because I didn't want to do them when other people were around, because, I suppose, I was a little bit ashamed of it in front of non-Christian family members.

To put this in perspective, for those of you who are not Christian yourselves, imagine a situation where a friend who you care about a great deal suddenly starts ignoring you in public and you realise that it's because they are with their family.  You understand that they are ashamed of you, or their relationship with you, or something about you and they don't want their family to see.  How hurt would you be?  How angry?  We do this to God all the time, in a thousand different ways, by not loving Him as we ought, not obeying Him as we ought, by side-lining Him, focussing on things less important than Him, by thinking that spending a few minutes every Sunday offering lip-service to Him is going to be enough to get us into Heaven - completely ignoring any aspect of relationship, or response to the things He has done for us.

How would you feel, if you were Him? Putting ourselves in God's shoes (so to speak) is a very good way of dismissing the rubbish attitude that God is there just to make us feel better, or that, 'if there is a God, He should just let us all get on with it'. People never stop to consider how God feels, because, I suppose, it never occurs to them that he might feel anything at all. 

Well, God is hurt by His wayward creation, because He still loves us, and wants the best for us, which is Him.  Our desire to do our own thing, turning away from Him deliberately, or out of neglect, is the very essence of Sin - the ultimate failure - and it's what keeps us from being complete humans, with a right relationship with our Maker, and the rest of creation. It's for that reason that we cannot just dismiss our failures, no matter how small - they are killing us! But, of course, this is not the end of the story. 

The Christian gospel begins with human rebellion against God, but it ends with a sacrifice made by God to atone for that sin - Jesus, the Christ, crucified by the Jews and the Romans in first century Palestine - and a risen, conquering hero who has defeated sin and death and to whom we may be united in spirit. That means our failures, our sin, can be forgiven, because God looks on the Christian and sees Christ. We are adopted by the Father of all creation and let off because the punishment that should have been ours has already been dealt and upon one who is utterly innocent, utterly perfect. 

What does this mean for our response to failure as Christians, then? Firstly we admit it, confessing our sin before God. Secondly we repent, turning away from the wrong things we have done with all the sincerity we can muster (God knows we're pretty rubbish at this too - it's notable that Jesus, who was without any sin, still undertook John's baptism of repentance at the start of His ministry, once again doing for us that which we can never do as we ought). Thirdly we ask for forgiveness and accept it as a free gift from God. Finally we respond in love - and that means loving obedience -  to our heavenly Father. 

In the case of my broken Lent, that means carrying on with what I set out to do initially, putting aside distractions and earnestly seeking God. How is that different from the two 'carrying on's I listed at the start? Well it's all about the attitude of the heart. I don't treat my failure as if it didn't matter, because it does - it's a rebellion against the Father who loves me and who sent his Son to die for me - but neither do I beat myself up about it. God has forgiven me in His infinite grace and mercy and wants me to move on and serve Him. To wallow in misery, self pity or self loathing, would only be to sin again, ignoring all that Christ has achieved for me! 

So, I returned home and returned to the pattern I had set out at the start and I bask in God's good grace and his inexpressible - inconceivable - love for me, returning just a fragment of that love - never enough, but striving to be more. 

Until next time, go well and God bless. 

Meditations on the Abyss

Having spoken about what Lent is, why I wanted to do something different for it this year, why I have chosen to give up what I have given up (and taken up that which I have taken up) as well as including a brief defense of fiction in general and my own personal exhortation for Christians to engage with it more on a number of levels, I find (and you may find this shocking) that I have run out of things to say for the time being. Since blogging more is kind of part of this Lent challenge (if you want to call it that), however, I can't just give up there, at the first hurdle, anymore than I can give in the moment I find myself bored and in want of a well-written story!

So, in an effort to keep the ball rolling here I am again, but fear not, this is not just a place holder for something more meaningful. No. What follows will be a brief report on this Lent so far (as seems de rigeur), then there will be a book review (non-fiction, obviously) and finally some thoughts related to the topic of that book. Hopefully it will be helpful and/or encouraging for someone other than myself.

So, how has Lent gone so far? At the time of writing this update, we are at the end of week one and, as far as 'achieving goals' is concerned I have not broken my Lenten commitments. What has happened, in fact, is that I have expanded them, boldly(?) cutting out more distractions that I wasn't sure I could remove at the start. (Then again perhaps I am merely adding further boundaries to this personal Law like some kind of modern-day Pharisee, who knows?) I am now watching no fictional television at all (which pretty much means no TV) and have committed to playing no video games either until Easter. The reasons for this are that, especially in the case of TV, it felt like only half a commitment, which is no commitment at all, and I found that, in the more difficult moments of restless silence, I was tempted to turn to that which I hadn't given up to replace that which I had, and not to God, very much defeating the object of Lent.

So, it's all out until Easter, but what about the 'insteads', the things taken up? With more time in the morning I find I can listen to a sermon whilst I feed my daughter, then spend some time in prayer and meditation on Scripture after some breakfast (as an empty stomach is a terrible distraction in itself ). This is remarkable for me, who has always found it difficult to make time for these things, at least partly out of a lack of desire. Now it can still be tough (falling asleep mid meditation is a risk) but the time is there and I can feel the prompting of the Holy Spirit to make use of it.

It helps, also, that an encouraging friend gave me a book of prayers and devotions ('A silence and A Shouting' by Eddie Askew) to work through, which I then follow up with a fragment of Psalm 139 (actually the first passage used in that book) to mediate on slowly.

This is difficult, but I am persevering, the latter especially in response to having finished reading John Jefferson Davis' 'Meditation and Communion with God: Contemplating the Scriptures in an Age of Distraction', which was both a challenge and a wonderful encouragement. It begins by setting out the case for 'rediscovering' biblical Christian meditation in this post-modern age and follows with a reasonably detailed and easy to follow theology of meditation, focusing on the ideas of the Kingdom of God being 'already' (but also 'not yet') here, our union with Christ and a focus on Trinitarian thinking. This was all brilliant stuff, and it really helps to focus your thinking, so the fact that only the last chapter deals with the practical element is easy to forgive.

At this point any Non-Christian readers may be asking something like "Christian meditation? But, isn't it a Buddhist thing?" or assume I've gone all new age, complete with incense and pictures of Angels everywhere. It is not and I have not, so I'll now do my best to explain.

Meditating on the Scriptures has been part of Jewish and Christian worship and spiritual living for thousands of years. It involves the slow, careful, repetative and prayerful reading of a short passage (or group of related passages) of Scripture, usually for a prolonged period of time. It involves focus and concentration with the intent of drawing closer to God, learning from Him, becoming like Him and worshiping Him.

The title of this post (ironically from an episode of Babylon 5 - I've always loved J. Michael Stracynski's episode titles and revel in an opportunity to reuse them) was chosen because unless all the above is done with faith that God is present and will listen, with the right frame of mind, due reverence and a right relationship with God (having been united with His son, Jesus Christ), then that is all such mediations will be: the abyss lies open before you and you will not be able to see God there.

This is a fundamental point of difference between Christian meditation and many other forms, especially those found in Buddhism. You mediate on Scripture, not to empty yourself, but to fill yourself up with it. You meditate, not to seek a state of perfect nothingness, but to find a relationship, a conversation with the triune, inherently relational God.

My own efforts at meditation are minimal as yet and I've only been trying for a couple of days, but even so there is benefit in the mere repetition of Scripture. I find myself thinking about it during the day, remembering God's presence with me and, most surprising of all, looking forward to trying the search again tomorrow. Not that God needs found, or that our relationship depends at all on these things that I have done, and yet I must seek, for that shows a heart willing to find, and I must prepare myself, for that shows a heart willing to change. These are mysteries, something we often shy away from as Christians, especially in apologetics, but they are a part of the unknowable aspect of a God who, nevertheless, chooses to reveal Himself to us, out of love. We should ponder them, wonder at them and adore God accordingly.

Having finished 'Meditation...', I'm now reading 'A Fine-Tuned Universe: The Quest for God in Science and Theology' by Alister E. McGrath, based on his 2009 Gifford lectures, some of which I had the privilege to hear. As a theologian with a background in the biological sciences, McGrath is something of a hero of mine and I've wanted to read this book for ages, but there was always another story catching my attention. It is good to have the time to read it now.

And Lent goes on...

Fiction, Lies and Parables

So, there was a lot I wanted to say in my last post and I think I got the majority of it onto the page, but there are still some important things I wanted to talk about in more detail. Foremost of these in my mind the last few days has been the place fiction actually plays in my life and thinking, why I thought I should give it up for Lent and yet also why I believe it is a really important part of human experience and something Christians should be less dismissive of and more participatory in than they often are.

Firstly, an update on how my Lent had progressed so far.

For three days I have successfully avoided reading any fiction and have spent my mornings feeding my daughter to the dulcet tones of my minister preaching on Song of Songs and Luke's gospel. I have been reading and enjoying John Jefferson Davis' 'Meditation and Communion with God' and have spent a good bit more time aware of the presence of God in my life.

I have not, however, had much time to do any actual meditation on the word of God, or spent much time in prayer and my daughter's current feeding habits have often distracted me from the thrust of the morning message. (She has taken to wriggling, flailing, screaming, spitting and pouting rather than take her milk in an orderly fashion - I wonder if she misses the TV being on?) Any free time I have had has been taken up with other distractions like sleepiness and procrastination. The sinful nature exerts its presence once again.

But there have been encouragements. As I said I have been more aware of God's presence this week, which had affected my behaviour to some degree. I've been less afraid of telling people about my faith as well, going so far as to be accused (light heartedly) of being a Bible basher yesterday evening. I've also seen unexpected fruit from my previous blog post, with evidence of others being encouraged and a sense of having been part of something God has been doing this Lent. I hope that can continue, because that's the real point, isn't it? We participate in God's mission and, at the same time, we participate in the divine nature, being in communion with the Father and the Son through the Spirit dwelling within us. Though it's sometimes hard to believe (and harder still to remember after we've experienced it) it does not get better than that.

I pray that God will continue to reveal himself to me throughout this Lent as I try to focus more and more on him. But how about you? Are any of you doing something special for Lent this year? How's it going? I'd love to hear about it in the comments (assuming they are working...) and add them to my prayers also.

Now: fiction.

Fiction has always been a big part of my life. For a long as I can remember I have loved stories and have taken whatever opportunities I could find to stretch my imagination, acting my favourites out and starting to craft my own. This is something I've never really grown out of, and whilst some would, suggest this kind of imagination is childish and that we should put such things behind us as we mature, I'm reminded of C. S. Lewis' succinct commentary on 1 Corinthians 13:11. To paraphrase, whilst he agreed that we should cease to be childish, one of the ways we do this is in no longer trying to be so grown up! Besides, Paul was using physical maturity as an analogy for spiritual transformation and he did not go into specifics about such things as childlike imagination.

Paul himself was one of the most imaginative writers of the New Testament. Yes, he was writing about genuine spiritual realities, but they were still things unseen and which we may use our God-given imaginations to get our heads around. Paul was very skilled at this and his imagery and analogies can help us alot to understand the spiritual transformation we have undergone as Christians.

So, fiction and imagination have been a huge part of my life. From books, to comics, films to TV series, video games to the stories I write myself, I have continued to surround myself with stories, to the point where my mind is saturated with them. They help form how I think, how I relate ideas, one to another. Some of this is good, it gives me a set of tools to help me understand God, the world and other people, but it can also get in the way. It can be a huge distraction from God at times and it can affect my priorities.

I'd been thinking about this for a while, but found I was really not eager to give up any of this (such things are never easy, after all) and I was convinced that God wanted me to stay in touch with this side of my life for various reasons. Besides, it seems to me that it is a huge part of who I am.

But my identity is in Christ first and foremost, and whatever God's plans for my imaginitive gifts and sensibilities, it's clear that I need to seek him first. This is the crunch point we all must hit from time to time. The difficult part of being a Christian - recognising when we're wrong and God is right. So I saw Lent coming and realised this was an opportunity to break some habits, reassess them and attempt to focus on God as I ought.

But does that mean fiction is bad? Have I given it up forever because it was a serious problem? I don't think so. How I approach it has to change, but that's because how I approach God has to change. It's a paradigm shift of priorities, not a condemnation of fiction itself.

"But isn't fiction a frivolous thing?" you might ask. People do, especially of genre fiction, my personal preference. One Korean student I met once was particularly sceptical, wondering why I would want to experience any other reality than the one God had laid before me.

Whilst there is an element of escapism in fiction (not that that is necessarily a bad thing, in my opinion - all enjoyment we have is a kind of escapism from the corrupting effects of sin in the world, a glimpse of God's good gifts) I don't think that's its only, or even primary purpose. I believe fiction, in any form you might find it, to be one of the most powerful tools the human mind can use. With it we can manipulate reality for others in ways which are not otherwise possible, and so we can open up whole other avenues of experience, even worldviews.

"But isn't it just another way of lying?"

A Christian writer friend of mine once wrote "let me lie to you" in the introduction to one of his works, having qualified it with precisely why he thought you should. Good reasons all! I now believe he was wrong, however. He wasn't lying in his story at all. Fiction is not inherently a deception, benevolent or otherwise, unless it is presented as truth. Otherwise it is merely creation, an expression of that part of the image of God in ourselves.

How else to explain the Parables? Jesus was not telling true stories, complete with those oh-so irritating 'what happened to them all afterwards' bits which, of necessity, accompany every 'true' movie ever. No. The Parables were not direct retellings of actual events, nor did his audiences think they were.  They were made up stories, told with intent, to make a point. Jesus was not lying by telling them, he was expressing truth through fiction, through imaginary images (based in reality though they were) that he had created for the purpose.

That, I believe, is fiction at its most perfect, most sublime, as is to be expected of the Son of God, but humans now are creating beautiful things all the time, with varying agendas and purposes. Some of it is dangerous and we do need to use our discernment, especially when recommending it to others, but there is much of it we can learn from even if we don't endorse the end ideas.

I find this especially true in the worlds of science fiction and fantasy. The Church has never really embraced genre fiction (to the extent it has embraced any fiction at all). Indeed, many Christians have been told to avoid it completely, often for the reasons outlined above, or because of misconceptions about what the stories are actually about. As a consequence more and more genre fiction is being written by those with a non-Christian, even anti-Christian agenda!

Despite this genre fiction is becoming increasingly mainstream and has embedded itself into popular culture. Its ideas are seeping into the public consciousness, but since it often discusses concepts like human destiny, religion, philosophy, meaning and purpose, then it actually offers us a starting point for talking to people about these things - much more so, in fact, than a lot of traditional fiction and even more so still than most people's every day experience in the West.

What I'm saying is this: we are missing an enormous opportunity by dismissing this stuff outright. We should be engaging with it, arguing it with the people who love it and creating it so that the secular messages aren't the only ones out there.

It is for this reason that I don't plan to give this up indefinitely, though I would hope to return to it with a different sense of priority and purpose. I am also still writing fiction at the moment, even though I've stopped reading and watching it, because I believe I'm exercising a gift God has given me. I need to practise and I have readers for whom giving up would not be a good witness, but rather a lack of consideration.

My writing is a long way from fulfilling the purposes I've listed above, but there are glimpses, I think, and God always shines through the cracks that are left open to Him. My prayer this Lent then, one of so many, is that I'll grow in Him and, with the Spirit within me, will get a bit closer to his intent for these gifts.

That's all for today, then. Go well, however you're approaching this season, and may God complete in you all His purposes for your good.

Shriven to Distraction: Some thoughts on Lent.

Lent is always a funny time of year for the modern Christian. Suddenly, indeed, almost out of nowhere, non Christian friends, colleagues and relations are all talking about what they intend to give up as part of this traditional Christian period. "Coffee!"  one might cry out, or just as commonly, "chocolate!"

"I really want to cut down on sugar." "I need to stop smoking." For so many Lent is, like New Year, a time to look at our lives and try to make them better for ourselves by eradicating bad habits or unhealthy lifestyle choices. Some, finding the annual sacrifice of vending machine chocolate to be superficial, seek to 'take something up', to start doing, or to do more of something they consider to be virtuous in some way. Thus everyone seems to agree that Lent is about nothing more than self-denial and self-improvement.

Don't get me wrong. These are not in themselves bad things to do and indeed if you do not believe that our existence extends any further than the physical 'self', perhaps there is no need for anything more. Lent is a nice (if at times difficult) thing to do once a year, both as a tradition and as a piece of mental and physical spring cleaning, and it comes with an overture of pancakes, so what more could one want?

I find Lent to be completely unsatisfying. I have proven my ability to live without (amongst other things) chocolate, coffee and computer games for a set period. Great! Achievement unlocked! Now what? At best I got a small sense of accomplishment, at worst I was driven to distraction by the lack of something I was fond of. There was never much more to it, even when I tried to make there be.

There was a key word in there, however: distraction. I'll come back to it in a bit.

Firstly I want to get back to what Lent is supposed to be about. The word Shriven in the title is a clue. It's part of the same verb - 'to shrive' - as the 'shrove' in Shrove Tuesday, otherwise known as Pancake Day. Now I love Pancake Day. It's such a great opportunity for eating really good food and is especially fun when shared with friends. Last night we managed an improvised main course involving minced beef, tomatoes and spices, followed by traditional lemon and sugar pancakes and one awesome Nutella and marshmallow specimen, which will definitely be repeated in the future.

Fun though it was, however, Shrove Tuesday is not really about pancakes. 'To shrive' means to confess, so rather than stuffing myself with pancakes, what I should have been doing was admitting all that is wrong with my life. (These are not entirely mutually exclusive activities, by the way, so pancake eating may continue). Why? So that I can then make a list of those things, followed by an action plan with SMART targets, complete with dates for review (first one: Easter)? As the apostle Paul was fond of saying, by no means! My confession isn't made to myself or to a counsellor or even to a friend. It is made to God, admitting to Him that I am not all I should be, that the things I do are in rebellion against Him, hurt Him, and are destructive to me and those around me. I am a bad man. I do so many things which can hurt people, belittle them, devalue them. I don't do so many things I could do to help them, build them up, love them. I do not honour God as I should, not with my whole being and I act as a poor witness to an unbelieving world. I think things which make me ashamed - there is a dark being here beneath the surface.

But wait! You're possibly starting to get the impression that I'm deeply unstable and filled with self loathing by now. Stop! You're wrong. What I am is a realist, and one with a clear picture of where I stand before God and what I'd be without Him, besides I'm reasonably sure you're about as bad as I am. "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23).

Because of Him, I know that the picture I painted above is not the end of the story, but let's not have any spoilers just yet. What's next?

Well, the day after Pancake Day is Ash Wednesday. Ashes have long been a symbol of repentance (like sackcloth and ashes for example). Repentance is turning away from something, in this case, from all those things you've confessed are wrong with your life. How is that different from the action plan and the SMART targets? Christian repentance is not just turning away from all we get wrong -  sin - but turning towards God.

We recognise two things: one, we can't fix ourselves, not completely, and in attempting to do so we're really only ignoring God and so adding to our sin; two, God is the centre and purpose of all existence and it is right for us to seek Him and devote ourselves to Him. In repenting we look to God to help us overcome sin and we build a relationship with Him. This should be the focus of Lent, indeed the focus of all human existence, turning towards God, getting to know Him more, loving Him and worshipping Him.

Lent, then, is a period set aside for being back to basics with God before we reach Easter, the commemoration and celebration of Jesus' death and resurrection, which, if it happened as Christians believe it did, is the defining event of history for all humanity and worth preparing for.

But it's difficult to find time for God. Our very nature ('the sinful nature' in Paul's letters) is opposed to doing it, and the world is full of distractions. It always has been, but it seems that there may be more distractions in our modern media-filled world than ever before. Almost all of us are on some sort of social network, which we check regularly. We watch TV box sets, carry millions of books on e-readers or tablets. There are few these days who do not carry a smart phone with which to access all this information at any time. I'm writing this post on one now! Information - good, bad, cute, ugly - is everywhere and we feel compelled to keep up with it and to add to it, making a busy day so much busier.

I know I'm guilty of this. I read on the bus or on my break in work, I check my phone compulsively, post thoughts on Twitter, check for reactions on Facebook, watch DVDs whilst feeding my daughter in the morning, play computer games in spare moments, look everything up on Wikipedia, and on and on and on. These things are not necessarily bad, indeed much good has come of them and will continue to do so, I am sure. What it is, however, is very, very distracting, and if God really is the centre and purpose of the universe, then we may be so distracted as to miss the point entirely.

So, this Lent, I'm trying something different. I'm giving things up, certainly, and I'm taking things up as well, but it's all being done with a very clear purpose in mind. I want to detox, if you will, from many of these distractions. I'm giving up reading fiction and watching boxsets in the morning, because these things, more than any other, tend to define my day. Instead I'm reading books on theology and Christian practice and listening to sermons, with a view to focusing on God and, above all else, actually listening to Him.

Now, I know I'm blogging about this and I intend to keep doing so throughout Lent, but it's not to look super spiritual and make everyone else look bad. This is not about me, or you, but about God. The reason I've chosen to blog it is threefold: as a witness to those who know me but don't yet know God; as an encouragement to fellow Christians who might want to do something similar (and an opportunity for them to help encourage me - I might need it) and as a way of focusing and recording my thoughts during this period, so that, if I learn anything or grow spiritually at all, I just might not forget it.

So, it's Ash Wednesday, Lent has begun. I'm currently reading 'Meditation and communion with God: contemplating scripture in an age of distraction'  by John Jefferson Davis and listened, this morning, to the Reverend Dominic Smart talk about Song of Songs. I'm feeling positive, a little scared and hopeful that, in all of this, I won't miss the point again, but will meet with the one true and living God, my Father, saviour, friend.

Here goes...