Reader Writes May 2024

Father Idris sat up in his stirrups and tightened the reins; he’d startled a herd of fallow

among the scrubby birch and hazel up on Rushock, and didn’t wish for a long walk home.

He was on his way to Presteigne to take a wedding that evening and he hadn’t even got as

far as Knill. But he enjoyed riding between settlements; it gave him a chance to pray and

to contemplate in the rhythm of a fast walk. The horse seemed quite happy with Father

Idris’s strange prayers, or indeed the strange tongues he sometimes used.

The land had changed hugely from the first half of the 21 st century. Ice-melt and Climate

change with severe weather patterns had imposed a very different world from population

change to landscape. Now, a century and more later, in the world of Father Idris, the hills

were well wooded after the decline of grazing, and sheep needed shepherding since

wolves had returned. But farming on the good land, such as the Radnor Valley,

successfully used “regenerative” techniques to build fertility and manage pests. Traditional

practices and high tech went together.

But for all these woes and changes in their world, there was an extraordinary revival in the

Church, which had become consciously outward looking. Of course Father Idris would

point out that nothing happens unless there is serious prayer; call it wrestling in prayer if

you like. His horse pricked up its ears, but happily not in a wolf-alert way. Ah ha, here she

is catching him up already. He stopped to wait for this guest also riding over for the

wedding. Good morning Benazir! Good morning Father Idris! And so they fell in happily,

Benazir spinning glorious dark brown Texel wool as she rode; there was lots to discuss,

especially the recent baptism when 35 people had joyfully had themselves dipped in the

freezing Arrow.

Prayer was a topic that endlessly came up in this expanding church of believers who had

had little previous personal experience of it. So what is prayer, Father Idris? Well the

amazing truth, as I see it, Benazir, is that Jesus tells us that God is our “Abba”, the intimate

Hebrew term we might use for our father. As Christians we have entered into God’s family.

He is our Father, so we can talk to him intimately. I love to pray when I am riding between

the villages, saying “Thank you Lord for this and thank you for that; show me the way”. No

babbling! There is no need; our Father in heaven knows our needs already and longs for

us to be asking him.

Benazir, a convert from Islam, then asked the big prayer question on her heart; what about

unanswered prayer? Yes, I know, said Father Idris as they took the track up out of Knill;

there are no easy answers, but my horse and I have had lots of time to talk to God about

this. Essentially, we belong to a faith that is all about wrestling. We serve in God’s world,

and we are engaged in God’s war against the evil in the world. God’s silence is not the

same as his absence. And here we are! Thank you Lord, and thank you Benazir! They

both looked up as a flock of bee-eaters fluted high above them.

Robert MacCurrach