Despite my charismatic leanings, there are few charismatic books that have shaped my spirituality. The obvious exception would be John Wimber’s first two books, Power Evangelism and Power Healing. Whatever their imperfections, and the apparent contradictions some have detected in books that were write-ups of lecture notes, they introduced me to a way of understanding the kingdom of God that has stayed with me ever since (even if I interpreted it in my own way). It was the adoption of a now/not yet model of the kingdom that I found particularly helpful. It provided an ‘optimism of grace’ about what God could do in the here and now, but it also set the framework (although not any explanation) for the times when prayers did not seem to be answered positively. Combine that with the emphasis in the prayer approach in the second book that models both listening to the person and listening to God, and I shall always be grateful for those foundations.
Beyond that, two books helped me with the aversion to written liturgy (“It’s boring!”) with which I grew up. One was Robert Webber’s book Evangelicals On The Canterbury Trail. His ability to document how these structures could frame a biblical spirituality was significant for me – and it was also my reflection on his words that made me realise my own conversion actually came through liturgy! No longer could I accept the ignorant criticisms of liturgy from places such as some ‘house church’ circles, which said it was just a device to produce an act of worship without ‘the anointing’.
A quite different book taught me to see life sacramentally. Henri Nouwen’s Life Of The Beloved takes the four actions of Jesus at the Last Supper, which have become the four movements of liturgical communion services since Gregory Dix wrote The Shape Of The Liturgy, and makes them into discipleship actions. What Jesus did with the bread and wine, he does with us. He takes us, blesses God for us, breaks us and gives us to others. It’s a stunning way to see the life of faith.
Then there is the question of how to read the Bible ‘spiritually’. Many from my evangelical tradition talk of Bible study, and I think ‘study’ is a telling word. It’s meant to have an application, but ends up staying in the brain. So although I was influenced at college by historical-critical methods of biblical study and developed a healthy scepticism for those who make fanciful applications, I had to learn other ways. A little booklet by Brother Ramon SSF entitled Praying The Bible did it for me. It was a simple introduction to Ignatian Bible study, with the uses of the senses and the imagination.
All of which gets me into the ‘How does God speak to us?’ issue. Without giving a long reflection here, I grew up – at least implicitly – with the ‘Wesleyan Quadrilateral’ of Scripture, Tradition, Reason and Experience (with experience for me including that which came through ‘charismatic’ gifts). But I heard a speaker at a conference recommend Ken Gire’s book Windows Of The Soul. I hunted it down, and found it a wonderful introduction to the many areas of life in which we can hear God speak. Gire is also a wonderful writer. Too few Christian authors can craft their prose beautifully; Gire is an exception. (At time of writing, it’s back in stock at Amazon: don’t miss it.) A similar book that took me down similar roads was Seeing God In The Ordinary by Michael Frost.
Finally, a book for the heart. Many have read and eulogised Philip Yancey’s What’s So Amazing About Grace? I’m afraid I haven’t. But a similar book on that theme did me a power of good: The Grace Awakening by Charles Swindoll. Although I am someone whose conversion story is one of a conversion from legalism to faith, it’s surprising how often I need the reminders about grace. The old bad habits of perfectionism and shaky self-esteem still pop back up like a jack-in-a-box. And besides, if grace isn’t central, we’re all sunk!
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