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The winter walker's guide to spirituality


You may be familiar with Paul's illustration of the Armour of God in his letter to the Ephesians. He lists such items as the breastplate of righteousness and the helmet of salvation, and exhorts his readers to "stand firm" against the enemy's attacks, wearing the whole armour of God.

For those original readers in Ephesus, a Roman soldier was probably an everyday sight. They would be familiar with swords and shields, and may well have owned some themselves. However, I don't come across any Roman soldiers very often. It takes me an extra imaginative leap to be able to visualise the armour, and then associate it with technical religious jargon like righteousness and faith.

Also, I've never really got on board with this spiritual warfare business. I'm sure it's down to my circumstances or temperament or spiritual immaturity or something - I don't discount the whole concept, but I can't say I've ever had a moment where I felt like I was crossing swords with the devil. So this idea that I'm dressing up for a spiritual fight doesn't quite find a foothold.


But there is a kind of protective gear that I know all about. And if you've ever had cause to tramp across a muddy British field in November, you will too. Boots. Hats, scarves, gloves, coats. Perhaps even an umbrella. And of course, a map (or modern equivalent). 

For my wet-weather gear, I have tried to avoid alliteration (oh, such a temptation to resist! A few slipped in) and religious language. The emphasis is on things which help to support my faith, which, if not attacked by the devil, is certainly assailed by the cold wind of disillusionment, and the mud of boredom, and the endless rain of unsatisfactory outcomes... Oh, is it possible to stretch an analogy too far? I'm so sorry. Let's move on to the clothes.

The Jacket of Reality

Everything else I can do without. But putting on a coat is almost always the prelude to stepping out of the front door. Thick, thin, waterproof, soft-shell - a jacket is necessary to face reality.

Going outside does feel a bit like entering real life. The air is alive; it moves around you. It smells different to indoors. There is birdsong, and traffic noise, and other living beings pursuing their own interests. The sky might be scudding with clouds, or frosted with stars, or a clear, bright, endless blue. You are reminded that you are a tiny part in all of this. Whatever is going on in your own head has to account for the sheer realness of the rest of the world. You have to let your faith rub up against reality. Put on a jacket and get out there.

The Scarf of Reassurance

When there's a cold wind blowing, a scarf, wrapped tightly around your neck and poked far down inside your coat, is a most comforting thing. There are certain things that act like scarves for my faith - little pieces of reassurance which remind me that this Christian thing is still worth believing. Bible verses (Surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our iniquities...), hymns (Great is thy faithfulness, O God my Father...), prayers, places, people - they knit together to provide that safety and familiarity that we all need.

The Wellies of Perseverance

There's no getting around it. Mud is a slog. You slip and you slither, and it gets up your legs, and somehow all over your coat even when you haven't fallen over in it. It's just hard going. And sometimes life, or faith, or both, are a muddy slog too. There's not much you can do except drag on your wellies of perseverance and keep going. One day the sun will come out. Just not today.


 

The Umbrella of Clear Vision

Umbrellas have their disadvantages, of course. They are no good when it's windy, and you can't use them if you're pushing a pushchair, carrying loads of shopping, or riding a bike. But for a glasses wearer such as myself, the wonderful thing about an umbrella is that it keeps the rain off my face. I can see!

It's so nice not to have raindrops on my glasses - especially when it's that fine misty rain. I'm not exactly sure what the spiritual equivalent of drizzle is, but my idea of clear vision is partly linked to Jesus' "single eye" - a certain singleness of purpose, a determination not to get side-tracked. Also, a recognition of the essentials of faith. It's easy to get caught up in the hype of the latest trend. Reading old books can help with this, as you discover that Christians of 50, 100, or 1000 years ago worried about entirely different things, yet had recognisably the same faith.

The Woolly Hat of Warmth

Sometimes my faith just gives me a warm fuzzy feeling. I might be singing my heart out in church, or have a particularly good chat with someone, or be praying by myself. It doesn't come all the time, and it can't be manufactured. It can feel like everyone else is gloriously warm and fuzzy, and I'm out in the cold. But then something provides a moment of warmth. It's just like putting a woolly hat on.

Those moments are something to cherish. Not that they should be the aim of our faith - but if having a faith never makes you feel good, you probably aren't going to keep it very long. God, says St Teresa of Avila, graciously grants us these glimpses of himself. So accept them as a gift, and appreciate them when they arrive.

The Map of Curiosity

The great thing about a map is that it doesn't just show you where to go. If you have an app, you can follow a little arrow on a predetermined route, and get exactly where you intended to be. But a map shows you the wider area. You can detour to a cave, or a spring, or an interesting hilltop, and then figure out where you actually are, and whether you have to backtrack or take a different path.

You have probably figured out by now that I am a fan of Christianity as a wide-open map with fascinating paths to explore, rather than a set route which has to be followed whether you like it or not. Finding something new and interesting (or possibly old and interesting!) helps to keep my faith alive.

The Gloves of Generosity

Gloves are essential for me, because I get cold fingers. They go all white and numb, and I can't do much with them. Likewise, generosity, giving out, keeps the blood flowing through our faith. Faith can't be all internal, or it doesn't amount to much. I'm not very good at generosity, mind you. But it circles back to reality - whenever your faith touches reality, it demands that you do something. So, I put on my gloves of generosity and I try.

 

So, put on the jacket of reality and go out into the beautiful and terrible world. Wrap the scarf of reassurance around you, and put on the woolly hat of warmth. May the wellies of perseverance keep you from foundering in the mud. Carry the umbrella of clear vision, and the map of curiosity, to lead you ever into new mysteries. And above all these, put on the gloves of generosity, to do good in the world. And may the blessing of God almighty be around you and remain with you always. Amen.

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