Having lost a broad-brimmed hat, which kept the sun out of my eyes when taking pictures, I’ve been on the look-out for a replacement. Yesterday, while trawling the charity shops of Cottingham, I found it: another broad-brimmed hat, brand new, in dove grey, for just £2. I tried it on - a perfect fit - and parted with my money. So far, so unremarkable. But what if I insisted that this happy accident, this moment of retailing serendipity, was the act of a loving God who had heard - and answered - my prayers? Well, that’s the rationale of another charity-shop purchase, just 50p this time, of a book entitled Miracles of Answered Prayer.
In more than a hundred brief accounts (all written in a suspiciously uniform style and format), people give thanks to the creator of the universe for car keys found, lost dogs returned, disasters averted and domestic dramas resolved. In one story a neighbour delivers a welcome bowl of stew when the writer is both ill and broke. Though it was the neighbour’s act of kindness which deserved gratitute, it was God who got the credit. The thoughtful neighbour was merely God's instrument.
Giving God the credit - when good things happen, or when bad things fail to happen - is setting the bar pretty low for what constitutes a ‘miracle’. I can see the superficial attraction of this kind of animistic thinking: summoning up a celestial supervisor who, having seen us struggling with everyday problems, decides to lend a hand. So maybe this is an inappropriate moment to point out that if we give an omniscient and omnipotent God the credit for the good things that happen, then he should also be held responsible for the bad.
Licenced today: Market Street in Dalton-in-Furness, one of those down-at-heel Cumbrian towns which attract no tourists (but which I rather like)…
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