Love and light – a spring retreat

Penhurst Retreat Centre - photo mine

Two weeks ago, I was on a silent retreat for women in Christian leadership, which sounds rather high-powered, but really wasn’t. It was wonderful, healing and restorative.

Penhurst Retreat Centre is tucked away in the peaceful East Sussex countryside, not far from the fabled Tent Hill, where Harold and his army are supposed to have camped out the night before the Battle of Hastings.

As I walked around the quiet country lanes and woods, it was hard to imagine the cries of men and horses on a battlefield a thousand years ago. The only sounds were birdsong, and occasionally the call of a ewe and her lamb. A pair of buzzards silently circled high in the blue March sky. The distant hills rolled in misty waves to the edge of the South Downs.

Every day I sat in the beautiful grounds. My favourite place was by the pond. Everything was a symphony of green and gold: the garden, the orchard, the ancient churchyard nearby, were smothered in primroses, celandines like a smattering of golden stars, and twelve varieties of daffodil. I felt bathed in light and love every day.

I wish I could say I am a stronger, better Christian leader as a result of all this.

I’m not. I rarely am.

I’ve been to countless retreats and Christian events over the decades and have been wonderfully blessed (to use a choice expression of Christianese, which I generally try to avoid) many times in these places. Sometimes I’ve experienced a significant spiritual breakthrough. But I still seek lasting, transformational change.

What I have to learn is to practice the rich presence of Christ, every day. What I have to do is practice daily obedience and listening to God, every day. I’m not always very good at it. Which is why I have to keep doing it, to keep seeking God’s presence every day, and the empowering of his Holy Spirit … every single day.

And so it is with writing. Whatever kind of writer we are, whatever success we’ve had – or not – we have to keep on practising our art, every day. Practising the writing gift that God gave us, as often as we can.

It can be hard. It seems even harder right now. Trying to navigate a pandemic which is still ongoing, watching Ukraine fall into darkness and horror … all the injustices in our own nation.

Yet we can breathe in all the light and grace of God that we need, for our lives and for our writing. His supplies are endless. Like the spring that arrives every year, like the dance of the seasons, like the sun that rises every day, his mercy goes on forever.

When God bathes us in light and love, he expects – commands us – to share that light and love with others. We can do so in many ways - practical action, financial support, caring, advocating, praying, walking alongside people, giving them our time - but we can also share that love and light in our writing.

We can only do that from a strong inner core, our inner core which must be fed by the light and love of God, where his Spirit can work his deepest change. After all, without him, we can do nothing. (John 15: 5)

So be still, in your spirit, and know that he is God, and that you belong to him. And that your writing is always for a purpose, and that his Spirit will always sustain you at your source.

I am the administrator for the education and learning office of the United Reformed Church. In my spare time, I'm also an Anglican lay minister. I wrote a devotional for the anthology ‘Light for the Writer’s Soul’, published by Media Associates International, and my short story ‘Magnificat’ appears in the ACW Christmas Anthology ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’.