I've moved!

New address for this blog: coultart.com/trevor.

Yes, in the excitement of opening up this blog to whatever takes my fancy I've got carried away and found it a new home. The chances are you'll be taken straight there (in which case you won't see this post, but that depends on how you got here!) but if there's anyone out there who has this in their favourites or on a feed reader you'll need to update to coultart.com/trevor to see any future posts.

See you there!

Showtime?

To audition or not to audition; that is the question.

No, not Shakespeare; Hitchin Thespians are putting on a production of Calamity Jane and I had missed the original audition date so thought I'd be extending my break for another year. (My last show with them was Thoroughly Modern Millie last spring, just before my son was born.)

But on Friday I happened to bump into the production secretary who told me there was a principal part still not cast for which I might be well suited, and there are auditions on Wednesday night. Sounds like there will be two of us auditioning...

A bigger picture

A change is afoot. Frustrated with myself for the infrequency of my posting here, I've decided to widen the scope of this blog. From now on it will no longer be solely focused on my spiritual life (or lack thereof) but will be an open book for anything an everything I fancy wittering on about. I hope that thoughts of God will still crop up. If they don't then I guess that might say something about where I'm at.

For now, all I'm going to do is invite you to take a look at the photos from our recent trip to the Lake District by clicking here. Or, if you prefer, here. It's entirely up to you.

"Thou shalt not covet..."

Ah, Jealousy. Not the most becoming of characteristics, and certainly - I understand - not a particularly Christian one.

But today at work I had no choice to tell a colleague that I was "insanely jealous".

He's just bought an iPhone.

ASBO Jesus

If you've not discovered ASBO Jesus yet, I'd strongly encourage you to pop in and have a look. Jon posts a new cartoon every day about some aspect of faith or church (or just life in general) and they're always succinct, witty, and thought-provoking. They also prompt a lively discussion in the comments section, which usually gives you even more to think about.

Yesterday's cartoon especially apt for me:

A place for me

Where do I belong? I call myself a Christian, because I am one. But unlike a younger me, I'm now openly agnostic about it. (My profile on Facebook currently describes my religious views as "Agnostic Christian. Or is it Christian Agnostic - I can never make up my mind".) I have no feeling that I should be leaving the church, as it's somewhere I feel at home. Or at least, as 'at home' as I do anywhere else; I've always had that vague sense of "not fitting in" wherever I've been. But is there a sense in which I'm deceiving (that word again) myself and others by staying? I hope not.

While I was away over Easter (which I guess is as good a time to think about faith as any other) I picked up a wee book at my mother-in-law's: Why Belief by Richard Holloway. The bulk of the book was okay, touching on things such as that all human relationships are dependent on trust and that we do, in day to day life, accept all manner of things without being completely certain about their reliability of accuracy. Good stuff, but nothing really special. He referred to the difference between "belief that", which requires no commitment by ourselves, and "belief in", which does. Again, interesting but not much more. But his closing section really seemed significant to me. Or at least, to the question I posed at the start of this post. It's a lot to type, but I'm going to quote it in full:

But what about those who cannot believe?
Many of us may not recognise ourselves in any of this. We may be too hesitant and tentative to describe ourselves as believers, yet we are strangely drawn to the life of faith and wish we could own it for ourselves. Communities of faith should be big enough to include people like this, because the human experience of belief describes a wide spectrum that ranges from the ecstasy of the saint to the fumblings of the non-believer who longs to believe. The best and most generous of communities of faith will recognise and allow for these realities. The best wisdom in the search for faith is to find out what we already believe and start there.

Rose Macauly, the English novelist, in her own constant wrestlings with faith, used to talk about an interchange of experience between hope, faith, and belief. She spent a lot of time hoping it might be true; some time trusting, having faith that it was true, and the occasional moments of firm belief that it was. It was important for her to be able to bring all these phases of her own heart and mind with her into the church, and fortunately she found that the Church of England was big enough to let her do this.

There are many rooms in the household of faith and there is quite a lot of movement between them. being the kind of creatures we are, prone to self-defeat and cynicism, it is important to take some step, no matter how tiny. Sometimes it is a matter of nuance, of detail, a placing of slightly more emphasis on one aspect of our complicated life that another, a whispered yes to faith and a whispered no to cynicism. Many people stay with the whisper of faith throughout their lives, longing for that fullness of belief they see, admire and are nourished by in others. They, too, have a valued place in the community of faith and Thomas speaks for them: "Lord, we believe; help thou our unbelief."

On an somewhat separate note, my minister Dave has corrected me about something. In a previous post I suggested that I partly blame him for setting me off on my path of questioning my faith. As he rightly pointed out, the appropriate word is that I should credit him for doing so.

An Easter Image