The Long Walk Home

“For when our hearts weep glorious
relieved of all this miserable
roll down canyons careless we
echoing with glee and goodness
forming visions in the scampering dust
and skimming frisbes made of sunspots

For when our hearts weep glorious
weightless of all bitter slump
sparkling as a beach we all
then burrow through the sighing waves
to play see saw with driftwood and shells

For when our hearts weep glorious
for when our hearts shout what a hoot
for when our hearts skip round and round
for when our hearts beat lots and more
then there we race in radiance
and all those dreams are then and now
and after that there is no fade
For when our hearts swoop without fall
outshines all
the one who paid”
(the outstanding Stewart Henderson)

My socks are teaching me a lot at the moment. I thought I’d share these things with you. I’ve just bought some of the most comfortable pairs of socks in the world. These are made from a special wool that is ridiculously soft, my feet are happy and cosy and everytime I walk around the house I rejoice in my socks. I realise that I’m a bit too much in love with my socks. This is also expressed in my choice of bed linen. I have the most comfortable bed linen you can imagine, soft brushed jersey cotton, very strokeable and which makes me smile when I wake up because it’s so wonderfully comfortable. I’m starting to think I like my comfort a bit too much.

This has brought me to think of the bigger things of this world, the longings I have and whether I am going to live to have them fullfilled in a short, unsatisfiying way in this world right here, right now. Or whether I am going to step out into the rain and head for the best place of safety, security and wonder imaginable. My longings for comfort, my longings to be loved, to be needed, to be warm and at peace are good longings, but socks won’t ever fullfil them (nor for that matter will all the other things I try). Only one person can and does and will fully on that beautiful day when the new creation gets put in place and we are finally free from the sin that hurts us and the people we love. I love my socks and the fact that I can rejoice in the one who made them. But He is better than them and if all else, socks included, were to be taken away then He would still be enough. (note to self: believe this more.)

I’ve done it, I’ve watched the end of the West Wing. I cried at every one of the last 6 episodes. I think I need trauma therapy. There is no more to be watched. I’m very sad right now. (possibly in both meanings of that word). The West Wing was beautiful for many many reasons, the wonderful dialogue between characters, those impossibly long sentences that no-one would ever get away with in real life. The characters that the writers clearly cared about, referencing back little details across series, knowing how to wrap everything up perfectly in the end. It was a series with hope, belief that maybe you couldn’t change the world but that it’s worth trying. And possibly it got a bit cheesy and far fetched and unrealistic but it left you with a sense that integrity, loyalty and genuine honesty were to be fought for and valued.

It had much to say about team life, especially in the first 4 series, on loyalty to the team, on encouragement, getting each others backs, brotherhood and perseverance in believing in people. It was funny, witty, far fetched, deep, a little bit too naive but with a strong sense that there are things in this world worth fighting for. Every British attempt at drama (with the possible exception of hustle) feels slow, dull, concerned with the worst in people, content with writing characters that all lie, cheat, deceive and have little redeemable qualities. It’s much easier to write characters who are immoral, cheaters, unloyal and nasty.

It’s so much harder to write convincing stuff about people who are deeply flawed but who also have redeemable qualities, who care about each other, who remain faithful. It’s hard because it seems cheesy, but to do it well leaves you with some hope that decency towards each other is really possible, that we can be loving, faithful, loyal and retain some integrity in this world. The hope of redemption is always there. We need to hang on to that. And for bigger reasons than the hope that the human race all gets a bit nicer towards each other. Redemption is only found through one man and our hope is that we are being transformed into His likeness, that we can exhibit the brilliance of his selfless love in our lives. That’s not naive or cheesy, that’s reality.

There’s not much to say here. There aren’t many schemes, ideas, plans or wisdom that can be summarised here to work for the rest of life. There isn’t a nice neat plan of how things are going to work out. Sometimes I can’t see the mountain range mapped out in front of me. This is a journey that twists and turns, that goes down and up and spirals around. In fact, if you have time, it’s a little like the walk I went on with my Dad today. We meandered around some Surrey countryside (and saw where his tunnel is going to go- very exciting), we wandered down a steep path with one view of a valley, double backed on ourselves further down the valley, seeing things from a different perspective and then walked down the other side of the valley, getting yet another angle on the pretty scenery. We trudged up steep hills, on paths that weren’t all that obvious and back tracked on ourselves a couple of points along the way.

That is life. This is what we live, seemingly random and yet beautifully ordered in ways we will never know. And it’s not our place to do the guessing, it’s our place to keep walking, to trust in the weirdness, to look at the scenery and remember the one with us as we walk. It’s our place to interact, to recall to mind, to be reminded and to receive the strength and mercy to walk the bit we walk today. And yet, it’s easy to lose sight of that, easy to just do the bits of life that everyone else sees, rather than the hidden twists and turns, the hidden pathways on this journey that are essential along the way.

I’ve realised I’ve stopped doing the hidden things, the praying, preparing and planning (and other important things beginning with P). I’ve stopped remembering the One who is behind and through and in and who, well, just IS in all this stuff of life. It’s easy to blame my job, other people or circumstances but the reality is I’m sinful. I’m lazy. And I’m sorry. But I also know that I have a God who is unending mercy. (well this is what I am told and this I shall believe, and when I can’t someone else in this wonderful body can believe it for me.). A God who beats me in any staring contest, whose love is real, whose silence speaks louder than any silence I have known and a God who is committed to getting me home.

I’d love to put in a five point plan that would get me sorted out and able to keep walking without tripping up. But I can’t. I don’t have it, God is strangely silent when I ask him for such things. Perhaps because he’s not dedicated to everyone seeing how together Kath Arnold really is. He seems to want me to live in this moment he’s given me Today. He seems to want me to swallow my pride and receive. He seems to want me to take one more step, trusting that His grace is sufficient for this moment, and that tomorrow the mercies will be new. He seems to want me to love well, to eat and sleep and act with grace and mercy to those around me. He seems to want me to stop blaming and wallowing and to walk on because He is enough. He seems to look in my eyes with the most real love in the universe, calls me His child and offers his hand once more for the next bit of the journey.

It turns out that there was a lot to say, but there isn’t much to do, be actioned or put into place, just some breathing, walking, sleeping and remembering that Someone else is redeeming, restoring, working through and enabling. My 5 point plan will never work, waking up and asking what He is doing might just. Being reminded by and reminding the people around me in this being-transformed-daily-together-body might. One more step, one more step.

There are things I think we need to speak about, the times when everything is dark and when unbelief seems to be the only thing we can do or experience. There are times when everything seems futile and bare. There are times when I cannot get out of bed without a long argument with myself on the need to do so and there are times when I think I have nothing to offer anyone. I have a feeling that I am not alone in these times. I have a feeling that some of these times come to all of us at one point or other in our lives.

These times hurt my pride, because they are reminders that I cannot do much in this world, I am broken and messed up. My mind is twisted and distorts things, I need someone else. I need someone to come into this mess.

These are times when the curtains come down, when every event in the future seems like too much effort, and every event in the past seems like a waste of time, fruitless and futile. These times are the times I lose my perspective, lose any connection to reality and what makes up reality.

Today has been one such time, a time when I couldn’t do or think anything without tiredness and twisted things going on. It’s times like these that I’m glad for friends on MSN and texts who remind me of the truth, and who know the same struggles. In times like these I worry that I am a freak for thinking this way about life, but it turns out I’m not (unless my mates are too). Hey, there’s a whole Bible book dedicated to this stuff.

The reality is that we struggle, we struggle to believe, to have faith, to not believe the lies, to obey our Dad, to walk in Holy and Blameless ways that we were called to. There are times when we are wilful in our sin, hard in our hearts and trample on grace. There are times when the truth escapes us.

The thing is, Jesus is still real, still holding onto me, still patiently loving me, still here, still praying for me, still willing me on, still walking me hand in hand to the Father to be loved, still wanting the best for me, still prodding me, still challenging and disturbing me, still being Him. And there is nothing that can stop that love, nothing that can separate us from that love, nothing at all. And the brilliant thing is that all that is true even though my brain is kicking in right now and asking the “really?” questions. Phew.