[A reflection on my experience of NewWine 2015]
I have just got back from a week at NewWine, with my head and heart stirred, shaken and bursting with raw, creative tensions. I’m going to abandon my usual care about the internet being ‘in ink not pencil’ and share honestly from my heart. This blog is more autobiographical than analytical, I’ve a bunch of reasons to share it, not least to help others reflect on grief and crowds; truth and feelings.
Our NewWine experience this year was totally different.
My wife Nells and I were driving in convoy and turned into a supermarket half an hour from the site, as I got out of the car her face was in a state of total shock. As a perennially guilty driver with our trailer tent hitched on the back I panicked that I’d crunched another vehicle, the news was far worse.
“George is dead!”
She had literally just heard the news that our brother-in-law had died that morning in a tragic cycling accident. When horrific news hits you, your world stops, everything goes numb and like many I immediately wanted to do something practical.
We travelled on to NewWine, Nells headed straight off to support her sister and I stayed with our 4 boys and church family and threw myself into the practical challenge of being a single parent camping at a festival, processing immense grief, surrounded by people who were enjoying one of the highlights of their year.
I reflect, it’s what I do, it’s why I write this blog. I reflect on God, grief and the gospel, I reflect on love, life and loneliness, I reflect on trauma, tragedy and triumph.
Here are a few of my reflections on what was a very unusual week, I pray that they might help others.
Family and friends.
Nells went to be with family, I stayed with friends, I missed her so much. When we’re hurting we long for intimate connection with those we can most be ourselves with. I was so blessed that as well as my 4 sons, my sister and her husband were with me at NewWine. I didn’t see them much, but those brief moments of family connection and knowing they were nearby gave me a stability, because their love runs deep and empathy was tangible. There’s a depth of relationship in healthy family where we can cry, we can be brutally honest, the unedited dark humour which is a by product of my way of processing, doesn’t’ get judged when it spills out inappropriately. In healthy family, we don’t need to explain ourselves, we are known.
We need family and we need friends. Friends were amazing too. Our church family and local network of close friends were so immediately supportive, offering practical support, listening and not judging, giving me space and I’m sure praying loads. Shock and grief can cause us to feel very alone, we want to push others away, but we need deep relationships. I’m so ridiculously blessed to have amazing, godly, unselfish family and close relationship with them, I was hugely blessed to have them on site. Not everyone has that, but God places the lonely in families, if they let him. Build deep, empathetic, listening, caring friendships – they are invaluable when tragedy happens.
Caring for those who grieve.
I didn’t get to many talks or seminars to be honest, for the first few days, I wasn’t really in a place to listen or be motivated and envisioned. The only seminar I attended was on Job, I’ve just studied it extensively, preached a series on it, and I respect the speaker (Michael Lloyd) – suffering was a subject I could focus on. The seminar focussed on supporting those with grief and I agreed with every word, about giving space, not blaming God for causing suffering and some other stuff…
The reason for mentioning that, is this: being plunged into a big festival in a state of shock and grief meant that I was surrounded by people, mostly Christian leaders and members of our church family. I found myself in the position of being a grieving person who needed loving care.
When we’re in shock and grief, we can often detach from our situation and review things differently. I’ll be honest, I stepped out form being ‘Richard in grief’ for a few moments and gave an assessment on the quality of pastoral care I received. One sad reality of the British church is that we’re experts at critiquing, we seem unable to help ourselves in analysing and finding fault in how ‘those at the front’ do things at big events. I passionately believe that comparison, criticism and judgement are killing the church, (see my forthcoming book ‘Awakening’ on this) and I confess my own assessment of how ‘well’ others cared for me in the midst of shock.
Here’s my assessment:
The love, care and pastoral support I received from friends and other leaders at NewWine was exceptional, consistent and profoundly encouraging. The senior leadership of NewWine were all aware of our situation, some of them are friends, others I’ve only met briefly in the past. They all went out of their way to show love, empathy and just basically be lovely.
No one tried to control me, no one came up with trite, unbiblical nonsense about God, or views of sovereignty based on Greek philosophy not the Biblical revelation of a compassionate God who himself experienced our suffering. No one tried to find a reason, or make it alright. Every person I shared our news with, was gentle, honest, gave me space and listened carefully.
This brief highly subjective snapshot of the spiritual health of the NewWine movement and of St.Chad’s church, revealed a beautiful integrity, genuine love and profound grasp of Biblical truth.
Surrounded by joy, struggling with grief.
One of my first thoughts was that it wasn’t going to be easy being in a context of joyful celebration, whilst I was in trauma. I’ve read the writings and angst of others describing that it’s hard to lament when surrounded by triumph. In the past year I’ve concluded that I’m an omnivert, I hugely value and crave personal space and I am re-energised by quality time with other people. I know that many introverts find festivals exhausting, (see Mark Tanner’s excellent book ‘the Introvert Charismatic’). I didn’t want to be ‘the angel of death’, ruining everyone else’s joy by being around and reminding them of grief and suffering.
In reality, none of that mattered. As Spirit-filled believers we’re able to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep. In the crowd, it’s ok to be yourself. The rawness of my grief meant I stopped caring about what others thought of me and guess what, that enabled others to flourish, to be compassionate, to bear my burdens and be themselves.
Worship is about truth.
Charismatic worship gets flak for being superficial, repetitive or triumphalistic. That is total and utter godless trash talk and has no place in God’s kingdom!
I found it a bit inconvenient finding a seat in the crowds, (usually late because of the practical responsibility of parenting) I found it a bit awkward worrying whether strangers would be distracted by the weeping bloke and I had all the usual worries about unwashed sweaty arms invading the personal space of strangers. But I worshipped, I sang, I cried, I raised my arms (and not just in the big choruses after those stirring key changes) and I declared truth about God. Because the truth about God becomes more real when we are preoccupied with death, eternity, pain and confusion.
I love loud, dramatic, powerful rock-ballad worship, because the music breaks open my heart to declare truth louder than my feelings. Our culture tells us that our feelings determine our words and actions, that can be extended to imply it’s disingenuous to sing words of celebration in the midst of pain and grief. That too is godless trash talk which has no place in God’s kingdom. The tragedy of George’s death doesn’t mean God stopped being good, doesn’t cancel the truth that God is faithful, powerful and died to bring us life.
I have written 15 reflections on Psalms of lament in the past month. I am so so glad that God encourages us with permission to splurge our feelings honestly without needing to tidy up their theology to impress him. But the beauty of the Psalms is that they don’t’ get stuck on lament, they express the blunt un-edited pangs of pain and come to land on the life-giving truth of God.
My extremes of grief and crowds this week have been unusual intense and in that whirlwind, I am more convinced than ever of some key truths: Relationships matter, love gives space and doesn’t control and worship is based on truth not feelings.