CHANNELS OF PROPHETIC INSPIRATION
( = ch 3 of Divine Energy by Donal Dorr)
Prophetic inspiration comes from the Spirit and enters our world in many different
ways—as a `word' or message (e.g. Is 6:8–10—the call of Isaiah), as an action (e.g. Jer 19:10—
the broken jar) or as a surge of new hope, joy, comfort, energy, and new life. The Holy Spirit is
not only transcendent (beyond our world) but also immanent within the world and indwelling
within each of us. So, when the divine inspiration comes to us, that does not necessarily involve
a bursting directly into our conscious awareness `from outside'. The movement of the Spirit is
mediated through our human faculties or through aspects of the world in which we live. In this
way the Spirit shows utter respect for our human situation.
In this chapter I shall look at a variety of different `channels' through which prophetic
inspiration may reach us. In order to ensure that the account does not remain abstract I shall,
where possible, give examples from my own experience. The `channels' are:
—the personal unconscious;
—the group unconscious;
—the unlikely person;
—the ancestors;
—the well-springs of a people's culture;
—the common ground of all humanity;
—the web of life and the cosmos or material universe;
—guardian angels and spiritual powers.
THE UNCONSCIOUS
Dreams
There is a sound biblical basis for believing that our unconscious is the `normal' channel
or route used by God's Spirit to enter into our awareness with an insight, an inspiration, a
challenging call, or an experience of comfort, hope or joy. For it is taken for granted all through
the Bible that God speaks to humans through dreams; and modern psychology has shown that
dreams are the most accessible route from the unconscious into consciousness.
In the Book of Numbers we find God saying to Aaron and Miriam: `When there are
prophets among you, I reveal myself to them in visions and speak to them in dreams' (Num 12:56). The Bible tells us that God spoke in dreams to Abimelech (Gen 20:3), Joseph (Gen 41:25–
36), Jacob (Gen 31:10-3, 24), the Pharaoh (Gen 41:25), Solomon (I Kings 3:5), Daniel (Dan
2:19), Nebuchadnezzar (Dan 2:28, 45) and in three different dreams to St Joseph (Mt 1:20; 2:13,
19, 22). One of the signs of the outpouring of the Spirit of God at the first Christian Pentecost
was the dreaming of dreams (Joel 2:28 and Acts 2:17). And Paul was urged to cross over to
Troas through a dream or vision at night (Acts 16:19).
The day is gone when Christians could dismiss as superstition any attempt to find in one's
dreams a meaning—or even a call from God. Jung (and other psychologists) have provided a
framework which makes the interpretation of dreams scientifically respectable. Jung
rehabilitated the ancient religious wisdom by showing that the dream can be a veiled disclosure
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or `revelation' of hidden and valuable personal knowledge. His work makes it easier for us accept
that God could speak to Joseph—or even to one of us—through a dream. For if we can see God
at work in our intelligence and powers of reasoning why should we not accept that symbolic
material that comes into our dreams from the unconscious can be another way in which God
communicates with us?
Furthermore, this material from `the depths' is often concerned with the deep meaning
and direction of our lives—and can therefore be profoundly religious. We may have been
unwilling to
look at some of this material and may therefore have screened it out of our conscious awareness;
so it comes through in symbolic form in our dreams. In this limited but important sense one
might say that on certain issues the Holy Spirit can `get through' to us more effectively when our
conscious controls have gone to sleep.
To say that dreams can be a channel for the inspiration of the Spirit is not to say that
every dream may be understood in a simplistic way as a message from God. For the `language'
of dreams is symbolic, allusive and often obscure. Psychologists have made progress in
understanding this language—perhaps re-discovering some of the wisdom of the sages of the
past. But the interpretation of dreams is still more an art than a science; and one who engages in
it has to move very tentatively and with great delicacy.
The Twilight
So much for the dreams and visions of the night. But there are also dreams and visions of
the twilight time. By the latter I mean inspirations which well up from the depths of the human
spirit at a time when the person is awake but in a somewhat altered state of consciousness: the
usual busy-ness has been left aside and the conscious control has been slackened; so the person is
in an unusually open and receptive state.
In my own case, such inspirations come occasionally during—or shortly after—a time of
quiet prayer or reflection. They come frequently when my mind has been cleared of the debris of
my preoccupations through a total engagement in hill-climbing. They come quite regularly as I
drift off to sleep at night or in the instant of wakening up in the morning. On some very special
occasions there is a dramatic irruption into consciousness of material which has obviously been
shaping itself for some time below the surface. It begins when I am on the very edge of sleep. In
that `twilight' moment the rational structures and defences of my mind are less in control. This
allows one inspiration to break through into my conscious mind. That seems to open a channel
for a whole stream of insights. They come like eggs which have to be laid one after another.
Each one seems to be the last; so, once I record it, I let go
my conscious control and begin to drift back into sleep. But this letting go allows the next insight
to push its way through into consciousness. With the insights comes a surge of energy, of life
and of what St Ignatius Loyola calls `consolation'.
People who are spiritually sensitive (though not necessarily `religious' in the conventional
sense) often have a sense that their deepest movements of inspiration, challenge or consolation
come from beyond their own powers; a certain quality of giftedness is an intrinsic part of the
experience. It is not presumptuous to trust this inner sense and to see these movements as gifts
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from the Holy Spirit. For St Paul assures us that the Spirit lives in us, helps us in our weakness,
leads us, prays in us, pleads with God on our behalf in groans deeper than words, empowers us to
cry out to God as Father, joins with our own spirit in declaring that we are God's children,
enables us to groan in expectation of a new creation to God, gives us the gift of faith to believe
that Jesus is Lord, and endows us with a wide variety of gifts ranging from the power of healing
to the gift of discernment (Rom 8:9–27; I Cor 12:3–11).
There are two lessons to be drawn from all this. Firstly, it is important to expect that
God's Spirit will touch and move us frequently; otherwise we are quite likely to miss the gentle
movement of the Spirit when it comes. Secondly, we need to dispose ourselves—for instance, by
taking quiet time for prayer and reflection, by immersing ourselves now and then in the beauty of
nature, and by having a notebook or tape-recorder near our bedside so we can make a record of
inspirations or significant dreams.
Wounds
Of course it would be a mistake to assume that all such insights are movements or
inspirations of the Spirit of God; for the `channel' can be distorted by one's own biases and
emotional wounds. Indeed such blocks are always there to some degree. So it is not very helpful
to ask: `Does this impulse come from God or does it arise from my own selfish concerns?' It is
much better to ask: `To what extent is this the inspiration of the Spirit? To what extent am I
allowing the Spirit to flow freely in me and through me?' In order to engage effectively in the
kind of discernment which would
provide accurate answers to these questions, we require a certain measure of freedom of spirit.
For most of us this means, in practice, that we need quite a lot of healing of the emotional and
spiritual wounds which were inflicted on us in early life. Some of this healing comes through
later experiences of being accepted and loved. In many cases, however, it seems to require a
certain amount of therapy, whether of a formal or informal kind.
It is not easy to find language to describe accurately what happens when a person is
inspired. We may say about somebody who has a real freedom of spirit that he or she is able to
allow the inspirations of the Spirit to `get through' without being blocked unduly. But the phrase
`get through' may be misleading. It conjures up the image of `getting through' to someone on the
telephone. This, in turn, suggests that the inspiration has come entirely from outside the inspired
person. The truth, however, is more complex. It is that authentic inspirations come to people not
only from the Holy Spirit but also from their own depths, from the place where they are most
authentically themselves. It is not a matter of deciding which part comes from the inspired
person and which from the Spirit, as though they were mutually exclusive. The Spirit is most
fully and freely at work in us when we ourselves are at our most free and most authentic (cf.
Rom 8:10,23).
This is not to suggest that the Spirit is unable to work in people who are damaged by
childhood wounds, or by other blocks such as oppression, poverty, sickness or addiction. In fact
the presence of the Spirit may at times be more dramatically evident in the lives of such
desperate people. The fact that the Spirit can touch them shows that deeper than all our wounds
and blocks there is an inner core of the human spirit which still remains open to God. And,
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touching that deepest place, the Spirit always leads wounded people towards a greater degree of
inner freedom which enables them to be more in touch with divine inspiration.{1}
THE GROUP UNCONSCIOUS
The irruption of material from the personal unconscious is not a sufficient explanation of
all the inspirations and movements which are channelled into consciousness from the deeper
parts of oneself.
We must also take account of the `group unconscious'. People who are opened up to the flow of
inspiration and energy from their own unconscious can, in the process, become channels for the
wider unconscious of a whole group.
I am taking the risk of putting my own experiences under the microscope here because I
believe that they are by no means unique. Many people who work intensely with groups have
somewhat similar experiences; but they may overlook or undervalue them because they have had
no framework in which they can be understood, and no encouragement to share them with
others.
On a few occasions when I was immersed in the highly charged atmosphere of a very
intense workshop I have experienced a rather dramatic breakthrough of new insights during the
night. In each of these cases I was almost swamped by an energy so overwhelming that it seemed
to be coming from somewhere beyond me. It is not fanciful to suggest that on these occasions the
energy of the unconscious of the group as a whole found a kind of focus in me. For in all of these
situations the whole group had been experiencing a build-up of energy due to intense work
together; and some elements of unresolved tension also contributed to the charging of the group
atmosphere. This energy was seeking an outlet—and it found one as soon as a path was opened
from my unconscious into my conscious mind.
On each of these special occasions I was either asleep or just drifting off to sleep; then I
came to full consciousness with a sense of breakthrough of powerful insights, accompanied by a
very strong surge of energy. In each case I felt as though I had hit `a gusher' (to use the jargon of
those who drill for oil). The insights which came pouring through seemed to be for the group as a
whole more than for me as an individual. As the ideas were pouring into my mind I had a strong
sense that the light I was getting was somehow `destined' for this particular group—and that I
owed it to the group to offer it back to them, precisely because it was theirs.
So, as the insights popped into my mind, I experienced myself as the reluctant instrument
of the group, called to bring back to them, in a focused and articulated form, ideas which were
really their
truth, though hitherto present in them only in an inchoate way. When I shared these insights with
the group the next day I had a strong sense that I was offering this particular group what they had
been looking for unconsciously or half-consciously. This impression was vindicated when they
welcomed what I had to say and accepted it for their own use.
In all of this I was very aware of the possibility of deceiving myself, of being a victim of
delusions of grandeur. Even though the sense of being almost `taken over' by the energy of the
group was very strong, it still left intact a more objective and suspicious part of me which was
observing all that was happening and probing it to make it less likely that I would go on `an ego-
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trip'. At no time did I feel totally `taken over' by the ideas crowding in on me and the energy
flowing through me. There was a certain sense of exhilaration; but it was accompanied by a good
deal of clarity about the process and its implications.
The experiences just mentioned were unusually intense—so much so that I felt obliged to
look for some interpretation of what was happening. Having concluded that they were instances
of the group unconscious at work, I became aware that the same kind of thing happens to me
quite frequently on a less dramatic and less memorable scale. Other people, too, seem to have
rather similar experiences, with greater or lesser degrees of intensity.
I have come to believe that such `breakthroughs' are particularly valuable. For they
provide a means by which a group may receive from the Holy Spirit a powerful prophetic
message and a surge of divine energy. But, of course, there is need for discernment. We must not
presume that the sheer power of the insights and the accompanying surge of energy guarantee
that what is happening is a direct unmediated intervention of the Spirit. We have to discern,
individually and in the group, to what extent the Spirit is at work and to what extent we have
allowed that Spirit to communicate with us and have interpreted the `word' correctly.
THE UNLIKELY PERSON
Having looked at the personal and group unconscious as channels of inspiration, we
move on to consider another aspect of how
groups work and how the Spirit can work through them. Those who are called to engage in a
prophetic ministry generally work with local communities or religious communities; and they
frequently find that their main role is to facilitate groups. In such situations they believe that the
voice of the Spirit is likely to be found in the group consensus. In the shaping of this consensus it
is only natural that the major role will be played by those who are more creative and more
articulate.
However, there are occasions when the Spirit chooses to speak in a powerful way through
a member of the group who has scarcely been heard up to that point—perhaps somebody who
has a poor self-image and feels quite intimidated. So the `word' God speaks to this group—that
is, the fundamental truth which they most need to hear—is at times mediated through a member
of the group whose contribution is quite likely to be overlooked or undervalued.
A group can easily get into an animated discussion which is leading the members
nowhere except `up into their heads'. Then, quite unexpectedly, the whole atmosphere may be
changed by a quiet intervention from somebody who has been sitting silently on the margins of
the group. This `unlikely' person puts forward the real challenge, or offers a word of wisdom
which touches people in their hearts more than at a `head' level. If the members of the group
really accept that message, they find that it opens them up to share with each other at a very deep
level; and they are far more open to the Spirit.
Sometimes the other members of the group have great difficulty in `hearing' such a voice,
precisely because they would never expect this rather marginal person to be a channel for
prophetic truth. So one important task of the facilitator is to listen attentively for such a voice in
the group—to await its emergence and to welcome it if it comes. The facilitator must create a
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space in the group for the acceptance of such a prophetic word. That means finding ways to
encourage the group to overcome their blocks and prejudices and to be open to hearing the
message. This task is itself a prophetic one.
How can such a prophetic role be reconciled with the professional integrity of somebody
who has taken on the task of
facilitating the group? Only by presuming that one who is employed as a facilitator by a
committed Christian group is not simply being asked to help the group to reach consensus. There
is a further implied clause in the contract which might be expressed in some such words as the
following: `The primary task of the facilitator is to enable the group to hear the voice of the
Spirit'. To play the role of facilitator without assuming some such clause might leave one in the
position of colluding with the group in stifling the voice of the Spirit.
To take on this prophetic style of facilitation means extending the boundaries of the role
by making a particular kind of `option for the poor' within the group. It involves encouraging the
more articulate members of the group to make space for an unexpected word which has come
from the margins. When such an intervention occurs and seems to be unheard, the facilitator
might tactfully suggest that the group may be facing a call from God to look at things in a
different light. But, having made that suggestion, one should then resume the conventional style
of facilitation, leaving the group free to respond in their own way to the challenge.
In all of this I presuppose, of course, that the facilitator is not imposing his or her own
views or values on the group. For it is quite possible to confuse one's own pet ideas with the
prophetic word of God; or to patronize the group by giving undue weight to what one of its
marginal members may say. So it is crucial that one who takes on the role of a facilitator should
be very objective. What I am saying here, however, is that while objectivity is very necessary, it
is not sufficient. One must also be open to the possibility that the Spirit may choose to speak to
the group not just through its articulate members or through a superficial group consensus; for
God sometimes chooses those who seem foolish and weak to shame the wise and the strong
(IÊCorÊ1:27).
THE ANCESTORS
Most of the peoples of Asia and Africa have a great respect for their ancestors. They feel
the need to keep in touch with them and to reverence them in a ritual way e.g. by pouring a
libation to them (in Africa) or by erecting a shrine in their honour (in Asia). The
ancestors are part of the community, with a particular role to play in it. So one would expect the
Spirit of God to touch the community regularly—or at least occasionally—through the medium
of the ancestors.
We in the Western world have largely lost this strong sense of connection with those who
have gone before us. So, in claiming that the ancestors can be a `channel' for the Spirit of God, I
have little direct experience to rely on. However, when working as a missionary in Africa I
became aware of how important the connection with the ancestors was for the people with whom
I was working. Furthermore, as Christians we can all draw on the long tradition of the Church—a
tradition which incorporates the accumulated experience of believers from many cultures of the
past. Until quite recently, Christians did not just believe in what the Creed calls `the communion
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of saints'; it was almost something they experienced. We need to recover some of that
experience. In practice this might mean developing a sense of communion with those who have
died—and, particularly, maintaining links with them through prayer.
Spiritualists use a medium to get `messages' from those who have, as they say, `passed
over to the other side'. Most of these messages seem to be quite trivial. So I am not suggesting
that the murmured words of mediums are instances of prophetic inspiration channelled through
the ancestors. In fact I think that the attempt to get such messages from beyond the grave
represents a failure to respect the reality and finality of death.
If we look only for verbal messages from the dead we have missed the really important
aspect of the bond between the living and the dead which is so important in many cultures. What
African and Asian people get from being linked with the ancestors is not primarily `news'—
either about life `over there' or about the life of those left behind. It is rather a sense of
connectedness, of continuity, of being rooted in an on-going flow of family and community life,
and of the life of their people as a whole. This provides them with a meaning in life and is a
source of hope for the future. It is true wisdom.
It is in this context that we should think of the ancestors as one
of the `channels' which may be used by the Spirit of God to touch people. Troubled people do
not really need a message telling them about the conditions of life `on the other side'. What they
need is a sense of meaning in life and a surge of new hope. Through their sense of being bonded
with the ancestors they may receive from the Spirit the gifts of inner peace, wisdom and deep
joy. Perhaps one reason why we in the West have become so up-rooted and so singularly lacking
in wisdom is that we have largely closed off this channel for the action of the Spirit.{2}
THE WELL-SPRINGS OF A PEOPLE'S CULTURE
Some time ago I was helping to run a workshop in Zimbabwe for a group drawn from
many African countries. Most of the participants were trying to cope with the effect of a severe
drought which had affected their home areas. At one point we had a solemn ritual blessing of
water and I led a meditation on the theme of water. Many members of the group were very
moved by the whole experience. It touched a deep chord in them.
This made me aware that in every culture that are certain basic themes and images which
are particularly powerful for ecological or historical reasons. Just as there is a `group
unconscious', so also it seems that a whole people has a collective unconscious. It includes
certain fundamental symbols or archetypes which may not be totally universal but which touch
all who belong to that culture.
Water is, perhaps, the most obvious instance; clearly, it has a greater significance and
`weight' for those who belong to a desert culture, or for a people who are subject to occasional
droughts, than it has in places where rain is regular and abundant. For the ancient Celts, the sun
had particular importance, so the Summer and Winter solstices were sacred times. The cow has a
very special meaning for Hindu people and for the Maasai of East Africa. In Arab culture and in
some African cultures the horse is particularly important. Not long ago I was very moved to hear
a man from Namibia describe the significance of the camp fire for a nomadic desert people. And,
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of course, the dream is exceptionally important for the Aboriginal peoples of Australia. Among
the Jewish people
the Covenant and Jerusalem are primordial themes and symbols. It would be an interesting and
rewarding task to identify similar basic symbols in a range of different cultures.
The myths which underpin a people's culture link together the symbols and themes which
are important in the life of that people. Those who feel called to mission can exercise a powerful
prophetic ministry by respecting and using the ancient myths, rituals and symbols—and by
incorporating them sensitively into the celebrations and prayers of the communities among
whom they work. By doing so they open up powerful channels which can be used by the Spirit to
touch and move people.
The primordial symbols `carry' the fundamental hope and meaning of people's lives. So it
is particularly important to re-discover and explore them in more secularised cultures where the
traditional religious rituals have lost a lot of their power to inspire people. It seems clear that the
dramatic (and commercial) success of Brian Friel's play Dancing at Lughnasa{3} is based on his
unveiling and `tuning in' to the almost forgotten power of the Celtic harvest festival. His next
play, Wonderful Tennessee{4}, was built around another such primordial Celtic symbol—in this
case the `Isle of the Blessed' which lies just on the horizon of the real world. By putting his
audience in touch with these profound symbols Friel bridges the gap between the sacred and the
secular. These plays can evoke a profoundly spiritual awareness in people who have lost the
capacity or willingness to be involved in explicitly religious ceremonies. They can be channels
through which the Spirit touches people's lives.
THE COMMON GROUND OF ALL HUMANITY
There are certain universal archetypes which seem to transcend culture and extend to all
peoples. Among them we can name `the child', `the woman' and `the man'. Those who make
contact with such basic archetypes come in touch with the substratum of what makes us
human—symbols, deep feelings and movements of the spirit without which our lives would be
grossly impoverished or emptied of meaning and hope.
Linked to these universal symbols are certain fundamental
human values which are common to people of every culture. We may think of the sense of
outrage which people experienced when the horrors of `the Holocaust' were revealed, or when
they heard of the fire-bombing of Dresden, of the effects of the nuclear attack on Hiroshima, or
of the policy of `ethnic cleansing' in Bosnia and Rwanda. Our rejection of such evils is rooted in
something deeper than family or culture; it springs from a very deep sense of what it means to be
human. This experience of humanity can also be found in instances of compassion, of solidarity,
of shared celebration and laughter which cross racial and cultural barriers. It is present, too, in
marriages or religious communities where deep love flourishes despite ethnic differences, thus
providing a living witness to a common humanity.
A vitally important component in missionary work today is to seek out and nurture such
universal values and the images and symbols which can evoke and express them. By doing so we
open up passageways into—and out of—the spiritual depths of the people with whom we live
and work. This in turn opens a way for the Spirit to enter people's lives with new insight, energy,
hope, comfort, peace, joy and challenge. What could be more prophetic and missionary than the
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opening to the Spirit of the common ground of humanity? It provides both the solid basis and the
flow of energy which is needed to underpin a ministry of human rights and international social
justice.
THE WEB OF LIFE AND THE COSMOS
Thomas Berry uses a very telling phrase: when we look at Nature we should, he says, see
`a community of subjects' rather than a set of objects to be used and exploited. In recent years a
growing number of people in the West have begun to rediscover what more traditional people
never lost: a sense of being a part of a web of life which includes not just other humans but also
the animals and plants.
This web of life nourishes us even when we scarcely advert to it. If we deliberately open
ourselves to its energies then we receive even more sustenance. Many people get great comfort
and an enrichment of the quality of life from their relationship with a
dog, a cat or a horse. For others, walking or sitting under trees can bring deep peace.
The Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh has a vivid sense of the salvific power of nature. He
begins his poem `Canal Bank Walk' by speaking of the banks and waters of the canal `pouring
redemption' for him. He ends this poem by saying:
O unworn world enrapture me, encapture me in a web
Of fabulous grass and eternal voices by a beech,
Feed the gaping need of my senses, give me ad lib
To pray unselfconsciously with overflowing speech
For this soul needs to be honoured with a new dress woven
From green and blue things and arguments that cannot be proven.{5}
The web of living creatures is itself part of the cosmos or material universe. Indeed the
boundary between living and inanimate beings is rather fluid—as is the boundary between
conscious and non-conscious life. The time is past when reality could be neatly divided into
`subjects' (humans) and `objects' (everything else in the world). Modern science lends a lot of
credibility to the intuition of Teilhard de Chardin that the world is not an agglomeration of
separate objects but a unified whole—and that all of what is called `matter' has an inherent
tendency towards that level of complexity which can sustain life and, eventually, consciousness.
Scientists like James Lovelock take this a stage further when they speak of `the Gaia hypothesis'.
This is the notion that life on the planet Earth as a whole can be seen as though it were a single
living organism which carefully regulates its environment and its different parts to ensure its own
survival.{6}
If we wish to engage in a prophetic ministry then we must expect the Spirit to touch our
spirits and those of the people among whom we work. Ironically, we can dispose ourselves for
this spiritual work, not by cutting ourselves off from the material world, but rather by opening
ourselves up to Nature and the universe. This means, of course, contemplating the beauty and
mystery of life and of Nature. But it also means `getting our hands dirty'—digging the ground
and planting seeds, draining or irrigating land, shaping
wood and moulding clay, weaving cloth and generating electricity. It is only when we are
`grounded' in the Earth, both by work and by contemplation, that we can reach out to touch the
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stars and beyond. Then we are making available to the Spirit another `channel' to get through to
us personally, to all the people of our world—and to the Earth itself.
GUARDIAN ANGELS AND SPIRITUAL POWERS
We read in St Matthew's Gospel that, after the temptation of Jesus, `angels came and
ministered to him' (Mt 4:11). St. Luke's Gospel tells us that during his Agony in the Garden
`there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him' (Lk 22:43). The early
Christians firmly believed in the existence of angels; and for nineteen hundred years this belief
was not seriously questioned in the Church. As children we were assured that God has given
each of us a personal Guardian Angel to look after our welfare. This belief was based on the
reference by Jesus in the Gospel to the angels of `the little ones' (MtÊ18:10).
Most non-Western peoples believe that we and our world are regularly affected by `good'
spirits, `bad' spirits, and some which seem to have elements of good and bad in them. On the
other hand, to most modern Western people any talk about spirits or angels seems somewhat
quaint—at best an outdated relic of the past. As Western Christians became more secularised, the
belief in Guardian Angels seems to have been attenuated almost to the point of extinction; while
not formally denied it is widely neglected in practice. At best one could hope that it has been
subsumed into a more general belief in the providence of God.
In recent times, however, the secularised West has been experiencing a revival of interest
in spirits. This suggests a spiritual need which is overlooked by those who glibly dismiss the
existence of angels and spirits. Many people are not satisfied with a spirituality which is built
entirely around purely human commitment and moral striving. They need a belief-system which
articulates their sense of being inspired, supported, encouraged, helped, challenged, rescued,
transformed or redeemed. Those who have such experiences often feel they have been touched
by benign
and powerful spiritual forces that know them intimately but are, nevertheless, distinct from
themselves.
People articulate these spiritual experiences in a variety of different ways. Some attribute
all of them directly to God. Others are convinced that angels play an important role in them. Still
others are not too sure—but they find it helpful to articulate their experience in terms of angelic
powers. But do angels really exist as distinct personal beings? If so, do they intervene in our
lives to guide and protect us? Some Christians insist that their faith requires them to answer `yes'
to these questions. Others think that to talk about guardian angels is just a vivid way of
expressing our belief in the all-encompassing providential care of God and the manifold presence
of God's Spirit. It is not necessary here to resolve this issue, since what is central from our point
of view is that such angelic presences represent a channel for inspirations from the Spirit—and
this is compatible with either understanding of angels.
The New Testament provides terms which people can use either literally or symbolically
to articulate their spiritual experience. The phrase `Guardian Angels and Spiritual Powers' in the
heading of this section corresponds to the phrase `Principalities and Powers' which is found in
the older biblical translations.
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In accordance with long-standing Christian tradition I use the term `guardian angels'. I
am adopting it as a modern equivalent of the biblical Greek term `archai' which the older English
versions translated as `principalities' (see Col 1:15–6; 2:15; Eph 1:21; 3:10; 6:12).{7} In the
Bible it is not just individuals who have guardian angels but also communities. In the Book of
Revelation St John speaks of the `angels' of various Churches (e.g. Rev 1:20; 2:1). By extending
this conception of spiritual `guardianship' we can envisage various guardian angels appointed by
God to have responsibility for different communities, places, families, nations, and even different
kinds of human activity (e.g. weaving, painting, or pottery).{8}
I use the term `spiritual powers' to translate the Greek word `exousiai' which St Paul uses
alongside the word `archai'. What I am referring to is a whole series of spiritual qualities such as
peace, strength, hope, love, joy and beauty; they are not just moral
qualities of the person but are experienced as gifts or visitations `from beyond'. As in the case of
the guardian angels, these angelic `powers' can be understood to be personal spiritual entities;
alternatively, they can be seen as manifestations or personifications or symbols of different kinds
of grace or spiritual energy. What distinguishes them from guardian angels is that they are not
linked to any particular place or activity; rather they are different energies sent by God's
providence to help us respond authentically and creatively to particular situations—as when
Jesus in his agony was sent an angel of strength (LkÊ22:43).
St Paul insisted strongly that all the angels and spiritual powers are subject to the
sovereignty of Christ (Rom 8:38: EphÊ1:21; Col 1:16). So it is important that we see `guardian
angels and spiritual powers' as agents of God's providential care and of the liberating power of
Jesus. This applies whether we understand these terms literally or as symbolic and metaphorical
descriptions of ways in which God's Spirit touches our spirits.
What really matters is that we begin to notice the many powerful ways in which the Spirit
of Jesus flows into our lives and into the lives of those among whom we live and work. One way
of allowing this to happen is to pay more attention to the `guardian angels and spiritual powers'.
Our growth in awareness of that influx of guidance, protection and energy allows the divine
energy to flow more freely among us. Just as the Spirit of God acts as midwife to us in our
mission, helping us to bear fruit, so we in turn are privileged to be midwives to the mission of the
Spirit by helping to widen the opening of this channel through which the Spirit enters our world.
CONCLUSION
Christians feel called to spread the Good News of Jesus Christ to others. But it is
important that we be aware that the Spirit of Jesus has been at work before us—and has touched
people at a much deeper level than we can ever hope to do. That is why we need to be aware of
the many channels used by the Spirit to enter people's lives. If we cannot recognize the touch, the
voice, the action of the Spirit in the situation where we are living, we will be working at cross
purposes with the Spirit of God; and we will be deceiving ourselves in thinking that we are
carrying on the mission of Jesus.
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