When You Need to Know You Are Invited 🌿 All the latest from Abby King

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Your monthly reflection and reading recommendations to nourish your soul.

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When You Need to Know You Are Invited

This is the solstice, the still point
of the sun, its cusp and midnight,
the year’s threshold
and unlocking, where the past
lets go of and becomes the future;
the place of caught breath, the door

of a vanished house left ajar.
 
Margaret Atwood, Eating Fire

Atwood wrote these verses to commemorate the Winter Solstice, but I think they still serve us now, at what feels like 'the still point of the turning world,’ to quote T.S. Eliot. I always find this time between Christmas and New Year dream-like and somewhat unsettling. The old year is all but over while the new has not quite begun. There are none of the usual rhythms or routines that tether us to the ground. We seem to be occupying liminal space, standing in the doorway of a past that is closing behind us and a future that has not yet arrived - ‘the door of a vanished house left ajar,’ as Atwood so aptly describes it.
 
//
 
This time last year the words I felt drawn to were ‘let go.’  I had no idea how painful or prophetic they would turn out to be. I’ve had to let go of routines, friendships, ways of thinking, and, hardest of all, both my Nana and my Granddad. I’ve done the long, difficult (and ongoing) work of letting go of old habits. I’ve let go of the idea that there’s an quick fix for depression. I’ve grieved as I’ve let go of hopes and expectations for how my life would look by this stage.
 
Now, though, the word capturing my attention is ‘invitation.’ I’ve begun to see that letting go can also be an invitation to move forward. It offers new possibilities and opens up new spaces. “Behold,” says Jesus, “I stand at the door and knock” (Rev. 3:20). If I open the door to Jesus, what might I find on the other side?
 
//
 
One of the most famous doorways in literature is the wardrobe door that served as the gateway into Narnia for the Pevensie children in C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I’ve always loved the part of that story where Father Christmas makes an appearance. Not only does his arrival signal hope, and the end of the White Witch’s reign, but he also gives the children gifts that are ‘tools not toys.’ These gifts meet both the children’s needs and the needs of those around them. They are an invitation to participate in the grand adventure of restoring Aslan’s rule to Narnia.
 
The Bible is also full of invitations. Adam and Eve are invited to care for creation. The children of Israel are invited out of slavery and into the promised land. Isaiah makes the grand invitation: “Come everyone who thirsts, come to the waters, he who has not money, come, buy and eat!” (Is. 55.1). Jesus echoes this invitation in John’s Gospel: “if anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink” (John 7:37).
 
Throughout Jesus’ ministry, invitations most often come in the form of questions:
 
Who do you say I am?
What are you looking for?
What would you like me to do for you?
Why are you afraid?
Do you see this woman?
Who was a neighbour to this man?
Who are you looking for?
 
In these questions, Jesus invites us to know him, to know ourselves and to know each other. I’m beginning to realise that all of our lives hold these same invitations, if we have eyes to see and ears to hear. ‘God comes to us disguised as our life,’ as Richard Rohr puts it. Every breath, every heartbeat, every sunrise is an invitation to choose life.
 
Invitations are scattered liberally throughout creation. You can find them in the cycle of birth, life, death and rebirth we witness each year. Every spring is an invitation to wonder and awe, while each winter offers us time to rest. You can find invitations in starlight and rainbows, whale song and autumn leaves, the way the world goes silent when it’s blanketed in snow and the feel of cool grass on bare feet.
 
Our everyday tasks are full of invitations. You can find them in the bottom of the laundry basket and nestling between the pots and pans as you cook dinner. They show up while you're exercising and going to work; making beds and cleaning the bathroom. They arrive in the form of looking after children, talking with colleagues, making cups of tea. 
 
Invitations are tucked away inside our brokenness and struggles, too. They are hidden in awkward conversations and difficult relationships. They beckon to us from the shadows of heartbreak and pain. They call out to us from a weary world weighed down with sorrow and suffering.
 
In all these things I’m learning to ask: What am I being invited to see or hear? What am I being invited to reconsider or understand? Which doorway am I being invited to walk through? What might be on the other side?
 
//
 
John’s gospel tells us that Jesus himself is the door. He is the way by which we come and go and find safe pasture. The invitations that comes to us disguised as our lives are always drawing us towards wholeness, or what the Bible calls shalom. Through all the different facets of our lives, Jesus is inviting us into redemption and healing, justice and peace, restoration and joy. He is inviting us to live in such a way that causes everyone and everything God created to flourish and bloom.
 
When we begin to notice the invitations our lives offer, we begin to see that we are being called into patience and forgiveness, perseverance and hope, kindness and love. Ultimately, we are being invited to come home - to ourselves, to God and to each other - to the place where, in the words of Henri Nouwen, '[we] can hear the voice of God say, "You are my beloved. On you my favour rests."'

Reading Recommendations

This month, I'm recommending books that invite us towards wholeness.

Try Softer, by Aundi Kolber

I've been fortunate enough to receive an advance review copy of this book, and I have to tell you, it is beautiful and brilliant. With both psychological and biblical insights, certified trauma therapist, Aundi Kolber, teaches us how to have compassion for ourselves as we move away from anxiety and stress and towards connection and joy. Her book not only helps us to understand what is happening in our brains, but also gives excellent, practical suggestions for how we might be more gentle with ourselves in the face of pain so that we can move forward, rather than remain stuck there. The book officially releases on January 7th, and I've already ordered several copies for friends. You can wait until it releases, but if you pre-order, you'll not only get it delivered on the day it's out, you'll also get a lovely free gift of some affirmation cards. 

Miracles and Other Reasonable Things, by Sarah Bessey

This book has a more narrative, personal flavour than Bessey's other books and I loved it. Reading it felt like all the different pieces of me were gathered. The charismatic and the academic. The miracles I've experienced and the prayers that continue to go unanswered. My own informal church tradition and my love for the wisdom of some Jesuit and Franciscan priests. Liturgy and spontaneous worship. Questions, doubts, wilderness wanderings. Knowing both the mothering and fathering of God. The strength we have as women and our struggles to be taken seriously. The deep desire for more of the Holy Spirit and a wider, more inclusive welcome at the Lord's table than we have dared to imagine before. Every part of me felt welcomed home by these words and I think you might find a welcome in them too.

How to Survive a Shipwreck, by Jonathan Martin

Using the poignant metaphor of a shipwreck, Martin explores what happens when grief, loss, failure or tragedy send us crashing against the rocks, and life as we once knew it is over. This deeply personal narrative, in which the author draws from his own experiences of loss and devastation, is written with tenderness, pastoral care and infused with hope that, as the book's subtitle notes, 'help is on the way and love is already here.' Martin helps readers to discover that at rock bottom, we find that God's love has never left us and that we are more resilient than we might have imagined. It is a wise, well-written companion and guide for those navigating charted waters. I highly recommend this book: it's a balm for the soul.

And finally...

I'm thrilled to have become part of the team of writers at The Cultivating Project. It's a beautiful publication which I know you'll enjoy. Read my first piece for them, When We Adorn the Dark and then go and have a look round the rest of the site too. 

I'm also grateful to Fathom Mag for publishing this piece of mine. If you haven't read it yet, go and check out Birth and Rebirth and let me know what you think.

As ever, I love hearing from you, so feel free to hit reply to this email if you want to get in touch.

I'm always grateful for the opportunity to pop into your inbox each month, so as a thank you, I've created these free affirmation cards based on my popular social media series, Your Sunday Night Reminder You are Loved. Just click the button to download.

With love and gratitude,
Abby