Is there a God?

The subject for my online service on 15th February was Lent as A Spiritual Journey. One of the readings I chose was by the Christian theologian, Frederick Buechner. In it, he asked a series of  questions, which I'm going to reflect on as my Lenten practice for this year. They came from his book, Whistling in the Dark: A Doubter's Dictionary, which is rather wonderful. So I'm going to attempt to answer one each week (except for the first two weeks in March, when I'm in New Zealand  and will have no computer with me).

The first question is: "If you had to bet everything you have on whether there is a God or whether there isn't, which side would get your money and why?"

The short answer to this is yes, I do believe there is a God, because I have experienced His/Her presence. But my relationship with God has evolved over the years. As a child, the primary school I attended observed the cycle of the Christian year, and held an assembly every morning, so I learned all the lovely C of E hymns. I also owned a very nice Children's Bible, so I knew many of the stories from both the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament.

Did I have a relationship with God in those days? Well, I took His existence for granted, and accepted the stories I read fairly uncritically. It wasn't something I thought about much.

After running into issues with Christianity in my teens, and having discovered Unitarianism, the God I believe in was loving, and omnipotent, but strangely powerless (I know, that is a paradox). I believe with Mother Teresa that we are God's hands in the world, and that He/She can only work through us. I do trust that God exists, and believe with the Quakers that there is "that of God in everyone", and that each of us is "unique, precious, a child of God." And that therefore it is up to us to treat every human being with compassion and respect. Even those we dislike and distrust.

In 2012, my husband and I did a touring holiday in France, visiting several of the marvellous Gothic cathedrals. When we visited Chartres Cathedral, I had a close encounter with God, while walking its labyrinth. I had walked labyrinths before, mindfully, and had found it an uplifting experience. The experience I had at Chartres was of another quality altogether.

When I first entered the labyrinth, I realised that the people in front of me were moving really slowly, stopping every few paces to pray or meditate. My initial reaction was to overtake them and carry on, but my guardian angel nudged me at the right moment, and I decided to go with the flow and see what happened.

Gradually, as I walked, slowly, mindfully, my mindset changed, and I began to pray: firstly, the Metabhavna, the Buddhist prayer of loving kindness, but then, the Lord's Prayer, over and over again, in whole or in part. I offered my prayer up to the heavens, in the sure and certain knowledge that *Someone* was listening. It was the closest I had ever come to a direct experience of God, and I don't think I will ever forget it. It took me 90 minutes to reach the centre of the labyrinth and I simply wasn't conscious of the passage of time.

In the years since then, I have come to believe that God is Love, and that Love is at the centre of everything. And that God in the form of the Spirit is active and present in our lives, if we are only wide awake enough to sense it. I believe that we are all made in the divine image and that God has been waiting for the unique, divine incarnation that is each of us since the beginning of the universe, and that He/She sees each of us as perfect and whole and beautiful, exactly as we are. And that this perfect, whole, beautiful being lives inside each of us and is loved by God, and has been loved by God since we were born, and that there is nothing we can do (however good or bad) that will change that.

Today, I have an active awareness of God, the Sacred, in the natural world, in my everyday life. I have come to recognise that God is everywhere: in the world, and in me. And that is good.

People Are So Lovely

It's easy to look around the world and think that people (on the whole) aren't very nice. In some cases this may be an understatement (thinking of certain political leaders, warmongers, the super-rich who fleece the poor, and so on).

Yet, it has been my experience, throughout my life, and particularly in the last few weeks. that most people really are so lovely. Or perhaps I am just lucky in my friends and colleagues.... Perhaps I should explain: since 4th January, I have been visiting all the congregations of the Midland Unitarian Association, to say my farewells, as I am retiring from the posts of both District Secretary and District Minister at the end of February. And I have been overwhelmed by the kindness and good wishes and flowers I have received. None of which I was expecting.

Then, for the last couple of days, I have been on retreat with my ministerial covenant group, which I helped to found, back in 2013. We had our usual time of deep sharing and togetherness, and I am going to miss it heaps. But it is a group for working ministers, so it is time for me to step back and let them go. They, too, presented me with a beautiful rose and a lovely card - so very kind.

All the loveliness of the past few weeks has filled my heart with gratitude and also sadness, that I am no longer going to be in community with these people. Or at least, not for the next twelve months. And if I do begin to lead worship around the District again after that, it will not be the same. I will be an ordinary visiting preacher, not District Minister. And part of me will miss it - will always miss it, I think.

Yet I know this is the right time for me to retire - my 66th birthday is at the end of February, and I have so much else I want to do in my life - more time with my husband, children and grandchildren; more time to write and stitch and crochet. And I will not be disengaging from Unitarianism altogether - I will still be involved with our local Ministers' Meeting, with the Peace Fellowship, with Northampton Unitarians and as a tutor of the Worship Studies Course and a regular columnist for The Inquirer. 

But there will be fewer deadlines, fewer Zoom meetings, more time to do what I love, with the people I love. And that is good.

What makes you come alive?

The Unitarians are currently running sessions for people curious about Unitarianism. The next course begins tomorrow (7th February) and the link is on The Unitarians page on Facebook. It reads, 

"Tired of feeling alone in a world that doesn't make sense? Looking for people who believe there's a better way? You're not the only one. So many of us are searching for something real; for meaning, for connection, for a way of living that doesn't feel incomplete. For people who see what you see and refuse to accept that consumerism and individualism are enough. NUBI sessions are for anyone curious about the Unitarian movement. We gather monthly with people asking the same questions you're asking. People looking to come alive again, together."

And they used this image, words by Howard Thurman, to catch the eye:

"Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that, because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

The answer will be different for each of us, because we are all unique human beings, who are the sum of our genes, our upbringing and our life experiences. If we take the time to really think about the answers to the question, "what makes you come alive?", it is quite possible that we may be disheartened by the (relatively) small amount of time we spend doing these things, rather than passing the time doing things which don't fulfil us. Often, of course, these activities still have to be done - to earn a living, to keep our home clean and tidy, for example. But sometimes, we choose (or rather, absently opt) to waste our precious "free" time with activities which deaden us, rather than making us come alive. Such as scrolling through our Facebook or Instagram or X feeds, disappearing down other people's rabbit holes.

These are the activities which make me, Sue Woolley, come alive. When I am engaged in them, I call it sacred living. Living with intention and awareness.

• spending time with the people I love.
• walking in the natural world, surrounded by the beauties of creation.
• writing - fiction, poetry, blogposts, addresses.
• reading - both fiction and non-fiction.
• crafting - crochet and cross-stitch.

What are yours?

An Interval of Peace

I am feeling very blessed. I have just spent a few days at my best friend's cottage in Cumbria, and we had a gorgeous time. Didn't go anywhere, nor do anything exciting. Just a quiet chummery of good conversation, knitting (her) / stitching (me) and some seriously competitive games of canasta.

This was the sun setting in Arnside on Wednesday evening, the day I arrived. So beautiful, so peaceful. These few days have enabled me to re-centre myself, in preparation for my final three weeks at work, which are going to be hectic in the extreme. As well as my normal tasks, I have a lot of things to tick off, so that I am able to do a decent handover to my successors (I'm retiring on 26th February). 

I guess the point of this post is that sometimes, we need to step back, out of our busy lives, and admire a sunset, relax with a friend, concentrate on Being rather than Doing. The timing of this lesson of me has been perfect, and I feel much more able to get what needs to be done, done, because I have enjoyed these few peaceful days away.

I recognise that not everyone is lucky enough to have such a bolthole to retreat to, and know how very fortunate I am. But simply setting down your pen, walking away from your desk, shrugging on a coat and walking outside for a few minutes can help. Or doing something you really enjoy, simply because you enjoy it. We all need a break from work, sometimes.

Selfish Living

This week's quote, by the inimitable Oscar Wilde, reads, "Selfish does not consist of living as one wishes to live; it is asking others to live as one wishes to live."

You can guess whom I'm thinking of when I share the image above - the Orange Peril. It is terrifying me, how close his policies and acts are bringing our world to outright war and ruin. But it is not just him - it is the people behind him, who egg him on, support him in his ego-driven insanities, because there is money and power in it for them. He is simply the face of it all.

I grieve for all the people in the US (and there are very many of them) who do not support the current President. My Facebook feed is filled with anguished posts from those who are doing what they can, where they are, to stand against him. I was particularly chilled by one post from a friend who gave advice on what to do if ICE knocks on your door. It seems that America is no longer "the land of the free". 

But there is always the other side. The Canadian Prime Minister, Mark Carney, made an inspirational speech at the World Economic Forum in Davos, and Europe is mobilising to protect the rights of the people of Greenland. I believe (I hope) that Trump and the people behind him can be stopped. That this time, unlike in Europe in the 1930s, people everywhere will stand up and fight for freedom. And not let it pass, like in Margaret Attwood's prophetic words in The Handmaid's Tale, "That was when they suspended the Constitution. They said it would be temporary. There wasn't even any rioting in the streets. People stayed home at night, watching television, looking for some direction. There wasn't even an enemy you could put your finger on."

Today, now, there is an enemy. Truly selfish living will be if we do not fight with everything we have to stop this insanity, so that others can live as they wish to live.

Speaking and Listening

Henry David Thoreau, the 19th century American author and Transcendentalist, once wrote, "It takes two to speak the truth; one to speak and one to listen."

(image: Free SVG vector files)

Hmm, I'm not so sure about that. If one person is doing all the speaking and the other is doing all the listening, to me, it implies an inequality in the exchange. The one doing the listening must be free to question what the speaker is saying, to ask questions of their own, to tease the deeper meaning out of what the speaker is sharing. Or at the very least - for example if the recipient is listening to a public speaker (or a worship leader!) - the listener should be free to talk with others and / or with the speaker, afterwards, about what the speaker has said, if they have questions.

We are thinking beings. I believe we should rarely accept what another says as 'the truth' uncritically, without questioning it. We have been given brains to analyse received information and should use them. For me, this is most of the problem with social media today. The "listener" is the person who browses Facebook or X or whatever, and reads whatever is framed as 'the truth', by the "speaker", the person who doing the posting. Engaging with the post is not the same as true conversation. Complicated algorithms control which posts we see, which tend to confirm the views we hold already. It takes a positive effort to move past this (to me, quite sinister) control and work out the truth for ourselves. 

In Thoreau's day, conversation was face-to-face, or by letter, between people who knew each other (or at least, knew the reputation of the speaker if, for example, the listener was attending a lecture or a worship service). Today, we are offered a wide variety of "truths" from many sources, most of whom we do not know personally. 

Our saving grace is that we are still inclined to speak with other people, face-to-face, about what we have learned. And so move towards a more nuanced understanding of 'the truth'. 

Happiness as a Way of Life

This week's quote reads, "Happiness is not a destination, it is a way of life."

Without being too Pollyanna-ish about it, I have to say I agree. I think this is where the authors of the American Declaration of Independence got it wrong, with their insistence on the rights to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" (italics mine). 

As a result, most of us think of happiness as a far-off goal, which we must pursue by any means available to us. But here's the thing: it cannot be bought; it can only be appreciated, right here, right now. If we see it as a far-off goal, we will miss all the micro-moments of happiness happening to us today.

Of course, there will be times in all our lives when we are distinctly unhappy, for a variety of good reasons. But most of the time, we have a base level of happiness, to which we return naturally, no matter what life throws at us. I came across a fascinating blogpost on the Scott Free Clinic website, which explains it like this: "Psychologists gave this pattern a memorable name - the hedonic treadmill - after noticing how quickly people get used to both windfalls and setbacks. In the early 1970s Philip Brickman and Donald Campbell argued that people adapt to good and bad changes and then return toward a typical level of happiness. ... That typical level is often called a happiness set point - not a single emotion frozen in stone, but a familiar baseline your mood tends to orbit. Inherited biological factors largely determine the happiness set point, with temperament traits - a key expression of these genetic influences - shaping how emotions respond to life events. The brain's habit of adaptation then nudges feelings back toward this familiar baseline after spikes of delight or dips of discouragement."

Which is, I guess, why some people (like me) tend to be happier (most of the time) than others. Which I know can be very irritating for the others! Yet I do believe that the potential for happiness is all around us, if we are only aware enough to notice the tiny good things which happen to us every day.  I have a daily gratitude practice, which consists of recording in my journal three things which I am grateful for each day, last thing at night. They may be tiny, unimportant things, but they are there. Last night, I was grateful for an idea for a new scene for my work in progress; for good progress on my current cross-stitch project, and for participating in a lively and fascinating discussion about the favourite books we had read in 2025, at my local Writers' Group. Nothing very life-changing, or earth-shaking, but they made me happy.

What has made you happy over the last few days?