The Tug of the Next Moment
I
had tucked my binoculars safely inside my coat and determinedly quickened my
pace when I realized that darkness was rapidly approaching. I had been out on
the nature reserve for over three hours and still had some way to go before
reaching the car park and the welcome flask of coffee that I had sensibly
prepared and stored in the car. It had been a cold and overcast November
afternoon and I began to regret the decision to take the longest circular
route. It can never be a good experience
to be caught out in the middle of field and marsh in complete darkness! Concentrating on the rough, gloomy terrain, I
was no longer observant of anything but the path lying immediately before me.
As I rapidly made my way I became
vaguely aware of the dark shape of a largish bird perched to one side of the
path - almost certainly something very common. I hurried on, but after a
distance my inner voice began to nag me into the suggestion that this gloomy
sighting perhaps should not be so casually dismissed. Something did seem unusual. I paused, retrieved my
binoculars, and retraced my steps some thirty yards. Surprisingly, I was able
to get close to the patiently waiting bird, and was rewarded with my very
first, and to date my only, sighting of a Waxwing. It remained in a conveniently cooperative
pose and I was able to delight in the strong colouring that was still able to
penetrate the gloom, together with the extravagant crest that had most likely
provided the subconscious hint that this might be something worth going back
for. In the end I left before it did.
Over the years, this serendipitous
event has assumed the status of a real-life parable that has helped shape my perception
of spiritual formation. I had every reason not to pause,
certainly not to turn back, but I had unintentionally glimpsed
something that teased my mind, alerted my inquisitiveness , thereby leaving me
with a choice - either to press on, or pause in my earnest intent. I was so
glad I listened to my inner voice, even though the reason for my haste was
legitimate. Sometimes, just the slightest glimpse of something different,
providing we respond with a redirection of focus and intent, can lead us into a
deeply satisfying experience. The regret of not
responding, or not being able to
respond, has been beautifully put by the poet R. S. Thomas :
I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was
the pearl
of great price, the one field
that had
the treasure in it. I realize now
that
I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not
hurrying
on to a receding future, nor
hankering after
an imagined past. It is the
turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your
youth
once, but is the eternity that
awaits you.
I owe the title of this reflection to my
reading, some thirteen years ago, of a short book by Simon Small, entitled “From the Bottom of the Pond”. It is a
book about experiencing God in the present moment. We are all subject to the
seduction of the “tug of the next moment”. There is a well-known mantra in
management circles ; ‘If you want
something done urgently, give it to the person who is too busy.’ The
paradox arises because some persons have the skills and energy, and the
inclination, to rapidly respond to the ‘tug of the next moment’. Sadly, they
can be exploited. They may not complete things fully and perfectly, but they
seem to be inwardly programmed to move hurriedly
on to the next stimulus, the next thing. It is not a general model of operating that I would encourage, certainly in the
spiritual realm. ( When I used to
tutor management courses this particular issue led to fruitful discussion about
the creative tension between a manager’s task of achieving, and the pastoral
care of staff.) Of course, we cannot totally
escape the demands of the next moment – organized activity demands it – but it
is a question of balance. Jesus most certainly experienced the tug-of -the-next
moment. Crowds flocked to him for ministry, even when it would have been
inconvenient and potentially damaging for him personally, and the disciples
must have been very demanding of him at times, as followers universally are.
Yes, Jesus did respond to sudden new
demands – he could not escape the tug-of-the-next-moment - his ministry was
defined by it. But, the evidence of Scripture is that he also made time to pause,
to be solitary, to reflect, to pray, to get things in a divine perspective. He
also protected Mary’s choice when he cautioned Martha that her sister’s particular
moment of withdrawal was important and legitimate. Pausing, even turning back, can take us away
from the seductive pull of the next task. In so doing we can be better equipped
for the future.
When I set out on this reflection my
intent was not to make any reference
to the COV-19 virus crisis. But it became obvious that it did relate. We have
all had our normal functioning curtailed though social distancing and
isolation. To a considerable extent the tug-of-the-next-moment has been
neutered. We can actually engineer the ‘next moment’ to a greater
extent than we might ever have imagined possible. In a sense we have a degree
of ‘retreat’ forced upon us. Despite the deep concern for ourselves, our loved
ones, our friends, those who continue to work in dangerous environments, those
who nurse, those who care for the elderly, those who sell and those who
deliver, many of us have an opportunity that we might not experience again. We
have been gifted , as Thomas says in his poem, an opportunity of:-
“turning aside like Moses, to the
miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your
youth
once, but is the eternity that
awaits you.
It
is perhaps a time to reflect into our present, take a glance back
to treasure the spiritual path that God has graced us with, and to look forward
to new insights and new experiences.
“ For
all that has been, Thanks. For all that shall be, Yes.”
(Dag Hammarskjold UN General Secretary
in late 1950s)
May
the Holy Spirit shape us like a precious stone in these strange times. May we
return to fellowship as a thankful, inspired and energized people.
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