This Sunday, some of us will be attending the Pet Service at St. Mary’s, others will be at the Communion & Memorial Service at All Saints, perhaps you’re on holiday and will be walking in the open air instead. The one thing we’ll have in common is that all of us will be accompanied by God, even if we’re not really aware of God being there.
Sometimes It’s really hard to see God, or even to imagine God, especially if we are overwhelmed by the suffering in our world, either past or present. I imagine this is particularly true during times of war.
In Tinwell we’ll be recalling the night of July 8th 1944, when a tragic-mid air collision occurred. Two USAAF C-47 Skytrains carrying Polish troops collided during a training exercise, killing 26 Polish paratroopers and 8 American airmen. We’ll be remembering them on Sunday, as well as praying for peace in our world.
That night during World War II marked a particular crisis which has left an indelible mark on communities in Poland and America, as well as here in Rutland. However, all of us go through times of crisis, when God is hard to see. There was a time in my life when I couldn’t see God for all the trees and the people. Don’t get me wrong, I was a Christian and had been for quite a long time. I said and did all the things I was supposed to, but God simply didn’t seem to be there anymore. All I could see were people, lots of people, all of them different, all in need of love. Could I love them as I was told God did? I wasn’t really sure.
Then one day, I came across a small book called Mr God, This Is Anna. Its quite an old book now, and a bit quirky in its way. But within the pages of this book, I found something of the beauty of God and of humanity in a way I hadn’t realised that I’d needed before; I realised also, that I’d never have all of my questions answered. But sometimes the questions are more important.
Mister God, This is Anna, is a true story about an unusual friendship that developed between a small girl, Anna, and Fynn, a young man, who found her late one night sitting outside a baker’s shop in London’s dockland. She’d run away from her parents who had been abusing her. Anna was determined not to return to them and refused to say where she lived. Fynn took her home where his large-hearted mother took her in as her own.
Anna knew the darkness at the heart of humanity, but behind her tear-stained eyes, Fynn and his mother could see a blaze of light. Anna had an amazing capacity to love the things she’d discovered in the world and wasn’t afraid to ask questions.
Anna knew that God was very big, but she also thought that God was very small; “If he couldn’t be little, how could he know what it’s like to be a ladybird?” And why do people have fights and wars and things? “Because everybody has got a point of view, but Mister God has only points to view.” Humanity in general has an infinite number of points of view, whereas Mister God has an infinite number of viewing points. This means that God is everywhere. Mister God is different because he can know things and people from the inside, too. We only know them from the outside, and “In whatever state you understand Mister God you diminish his size”. God is larger than the universe, larger than any of our ideals, but yet God can still be seen in the face of a small child, an old man, a grieving widow, or perhaps even your pet dog.
For Anna the whole reason for living was to try to understand more about Mister God and his world, despite the fact that we’ll never know everything. And, even more importantly, to love as Mister God loves, appreciating the infinite number of viewing points, even if we can’t see them ourselves.
If you’d like a bit of summer reading, I can’t recommend this book enough.
