In a recent article in The Times, the journalist Matthew Parris wrote that he recognises ‘the voice that speaks of religious revelations’ because he has heard it himself. But he continues, ‘I learned to distrust it.’ Parris describes a moment when, in a vast underground cavern, a shaft of light coming through a pothole in the cavern’s rock ceiling caught his attention when a moth passing through it seemed to burst into flame. At that point he felt, not for the first time, a ‘faint stirring’, a sense of a touch on his shoulder. He writes, ‘if I am susceptible than others must be too’, and links this feeling of being chosen to sense the presence of an invisible Other with the revelations associated with a variety of different religions and the religious experiences that people have who are affiliated to these religions. But he continues, ‘I know beyond all possible doubt that this feeling is baseless, delusory.’
In a similar vein, a recent survey showed that about a third of the population of this country believe in angels and that many of these people were willing to disclose that they felt that they had seen an angel. As before, perhaps Matthew Parris would say that such experiences are delusions, or link them with mental illness.
I myself have had similar ‘peak’ moments from time to time, for instance, taking photos of a beautiful view in spring when leaf buds seem literally to open in front of my eyes; or on one particular occasion when I was on sabbatical in New Zealand, a few years ago, and stood on an empty beach watching the waves roll in. As I gazed in amazement at the completely clear seawater sparkling in the sunlight, I felt a presence alongside me.
I know that I am not alone in having such experiences and in wanting to see the meaning hidden in them. Because I am a Christian, I understand these moments to be times when the Holy Spirit of God is enjoying the world alongside of me. Am I deluded, as Matthew Parris would have it? Are such experiences signs of psychosis and simply not true, as he argues? There was a time when I too was an atheist and would have agreed with him. Now though, I don't think that his outright dismissal of the possibility that such events might be true encounters with God is right. Perhaps what Parris and me and countless other people experience is something to do with the chemistry or the wiring of the brain as he suggests. But maybe God chooses to use that brain chemistry collision or the sudden spark of the brain’s wiring that triggers a sensation that something significant has just happened in order to catch our attention. There is no doubt in my mind that God is a communicator and loves to join us as we marvel at a new baby’s first smile, or shiver at the thrill of arriving at the top of a mountain on a hike, or move into a mellow state as we listen to a favourite piece of music.
If we read the Bible, particularly the Gospels, we see that people often found strange and interesting things happening when Jesus Christ was around. But these ‘happenings’ weren’t just isolated and fleeting hints of something more. People who met him experienced a powerful and sustaining presence that was unforgettable. Still today as people explore the claims of Christianity they come to recognise that presence, and understand the reality of God in our world.
If we do have highly charged spiritual experiences such as I’ve described above, how can we know if they are just a chemical reaction in our brains, or brief glimpses of God? Reflecting on them, exploring them with other people who have done the same can help us make sense of surprising moments of insight or wonder. Joining an Alpha group might be just the thing to help put strange experiences into context.
Beren Hartless
