Stuff

I'm reminded of a kids' video featuring the Veggietales (Larry the Cucumber, Junior Asparagus, et al), in which Larry (I think) fills his life with 'stuff', material goods, and is challenged by a fellow vegetable:
'How much more stuff do you want, Larry?'
'I dunno,' he responds, 'how much more stuff is there?'
A classic line and one that cuts to the heart.

The reason I bring this to mind is that we're having our loft re-lagged in preparation or winter. We've therefore had to clear said loft of its contents.

Now, as an aside, I should point out that Mrs Pilgrim and I are not the materialistic type, nor do we consider ourselves hoarders. Indeed, whenever I announce my intention to acquire a new book/item of clothing or whatever, Mrs P can be guaranteed to retort: 'Make sure you throw another one out first'. So you will appreciate, we're unlikely to possess more stuff than most other people - in fact I'd guess we'd be in the lowest quartile of British people when it comes to ownership of stuff.

So you may be able to imagine my distress on emptying our loft as I witnessed a room fill with unimaginable quantities of stuff: spare microwave, 'O' level geography notes, baby bath (it's at least 15 years since we needed that), a 50 year old suitcase, miscellaneous rolls of carpet, empty boxes retained for re-packaging precious items when next in transit (the items concerned have long gone), a selection of glove puppets, two multi-coloured hat boxes (we don't do hats), a broken sledge, a set of second hand golf clubs that hadn't hit a ball in 10 years....

Thankfully I've deposited a car load at the local recycling centre, and we'll be dropping off another car load at a charity shop. But there remains an obscene quantity of objects that we feel unable to let go, either because it might come in handy', or 'we can't  throw that away'. And the thought or returning these to the loft after the insulation guys have been distresses me further still.

Ian Adams in his book Cave, Refectory, Road reflects on the realistic application of monastic practice to modern life. Considering simplicity, he says of monastic community: 'There is less of almost everything that most of us surround ourselves with - fewer words, fewer images, less stuff - and more of the things that we sense may enhance and re-imagine the experience of human being - more depth, more stillness, more reflection.'

See me on twitter: KenLivo

Our God is a great big God

At church we sing lots of kids' songs about God being BIG. A bit cringy, but not bad theology.

However, since kids (and the rest of us) need reality to support whatever the adults may tell them, I'm thinking: does the way we live our lives reflect a belief that God is big? Would someone observing the way I live think: 'blimey, he must have a big view of God?'

What would that kind of life look like? Well, I guess it would need to be based on whatever I believed - my beliefs about the world will determine how I live my life; if they don't then they aren't beliefs.

A big God must be bigger than any of my thoughts (to paraphrase Anselm, who defined his belief in the existence of God using the phrase "that than which nothing greater can be conceived"). Yet, too often we constrain God within the limitations not just of our thinking capacities but within something far short of our human imagining, namely doctrinal constructions. In saying that, I'm not being critical of doctrine per se. But, if we're to be faithful to our faith in a 'great big God', we must at least hold lightly to any concepts, ideas or doctrines we may hold; we must be humble in our conception of God.

A big God must also therefore be capable of surprising us. If God does not, there's something wrong with how we're seeing God in our life. The fact is, life is full of surprises, some of them unpleasant, many of them unseen - but we often attribute only a selection of life's events to God's activity, perhaps because our view of God doesn't encompass the other stuff, or because we don't take the time to reflect on the familiar things, and in the process our 'great big God' shrinks still further.

And a big God must surely be capable of greater deeds than his creation, greater love, greater forgiveness, greater mercy, greater goodness. Some of our doctrines don't reflect this - once again we limit God's 'bigness' to the extent of our capacities to love, forgive, show mercy, be good.

And before you know it, our great big God has been reduced to human scale.

No wonder so many of our kids don't believe it.

Hello, hello, I'm back again

After more than 2 years silence, I'm re-entering the world of blog. Not planning on saying much today, more of a case of putting myself out there again, so I'll feel compelled to continue.

I've just signed up to twitter. At last I can see some value in what had previously eluded me - although I'm not yet a convert - more twittering round the edges. Which is what I do - I guess that's what many of us do - a thought leads to putting one's toe in the water, see what it feels like: is there value in this? why should I invest my time in this? What's the point? That's the kind of stage I'm at with twitter. I'm prepared to admit it may yet turn out to be a complete waste of time, but I'll give it a go.

As ever, I'm mostly interested in what people have got to say about spirituality etc. So far through twitter, I've learnt that Rob Bell is leaving Mars Hill church - may mean little to you - to me it's significant; that the self same Rob Bell is partnering with the producer of 'Lost' to write a movie script; and that yesterday was St Bavo's Day, a 7th century Belgian monk who lived in a hollow tree (courtesy Ship of Fools).

Off now to tweet! (KenLivo on twitter.com)