The Overcoming God

 

A ship sank off the coast of India, Don tells me, taking with it a cargo of billions of small plastic beads, which will wreck the marine life in the area. Cheery, starting the day with that bit of news…

Well, I counter as I emerge from the prayer window: the earth is the Lord’s and everything in it. For God, nothing is impossible. Ocean clean-up; peace in war zones; overthrowing of tyrants and disease, hunger and deprivation.

The news is generally dire these days, but I am going to praise the Lord of heaven and earth, who loves us and gave his life for us. Not in an air-head way, but in a deliberate act of faith in our loving and faithful Lord, who is the Alpha and the Omega, who has redeemed this earth from the tyranny of the enemy oppressor.

I believe in God the Father; I believe in Christ his Son; I believe in the Holy Spirit: my God is three-in-one. I believe in the Resurrection; I believe Jesus will come again. Why? How can I believe this? Because I have experienced his love, his mercies, his grace and his peace: he transformed my life. I know who I believe in.

And so I declare his praises this morning. Whatever my feelings about the state of the world, I believe in the loving faithful God, full of grace and truth and mercy and forgiveness.

Happy Endings

 

The paper is coarse, many pages marked with age spots. The cover is thick and heavy, conveying a sense of timeless permanence. The illustrations, despite their own age spots, are delightful, depicting an age which carried its own weight of darkness and injustice.

Fragile with homesickness, I purchased this first edition of Dickens’ David Copperfield for £9 over fifty years ago in Shrewsbury, which I was rather aimlessly visiting during the Christmas break from Stirling University, where I was an exchange student. Nine pounds was a lot of money to me, so the purchase was an impulsive self-indulgence. I have treasured it over the decades, but although I studied Dickens at uni and have read David Copperfield at least a couple of times, I had never read that first edition copy.

So I am reading it now, savouring the delicious descriptions of characters both appealing and revolting. I’ve been pacing myself, limiting my reading to a couple of chapters at a time to avoid the temptation to pick up speed to reach the denouement. With Dickens, the many incredible coincidences can be forgiven and even relished because of the beautiful detail of the story. Now, after weeks of working through it, I am approaching the end, anticipating the joy of seeing the sweep of this epic story tied up with a red ribbon, culminating in a happy ending despite the many sorrows along the way.

Perhaps we are all fragile with homesickness these days, living in a world increasingly dark and threatening, full of misery, injustice and insecurity. This is one of those moments to invest in a deep dive into the Scriptures, also full of vivid descriptions of villains and normal people who make mistakes, as well as heroes who trust God despite all the odds: Moses, Abraham, Peter and Paul. It is a story of which we are all a part, in which we are invited to see ourselves more clearly in the light of our perfect Saviour. A story which is also full of amazing coincidences (haven’t I experienced so many in my own life?) and which is – will one day be – tied up with the most amazing red ribbon of all: the redemption of the whole world by our loving Lord Jesus Christ.

I walk out into this beautiful day with a song of thanksgiving in my heart…looking forward to those final forty pages of David Copperfield later this afternoon!

Chicken or Eagle?

 

‘Chicken in the garden!’ one of the twins yelled. We all rushed out to encourage this feathered visitor back over the wall into her own garden.

We rushed hither and thither, the three children and me. I got close, reached out, nearly had her, then hesitated when I saw her beak, and she bustled off, all feathers and fluster and squawks.

Don came out, approached the chicken from the front and as he leaned in as if to pick her up, suddenly revealed an egg in the hand he had outstretched beneath her.

‘Oh!’ he shouted to the three children. ‘Look! An egg!’

The children roared with laughter. ‘She laid an egg!’ One child was so excited and laughing so hard she wet herself, which made us all laugh all the more. In the midst of our hilarity, the chicken decided it was time for a sharp exit and got herself back over the fence into her home yard.

I took the cold egg from Don, noticing the stamp, and returned it to the fridge.

Fun being married to a clown.

‘…those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles…’

Mhairi has often challenged, ‘Be the eagle, not the chicken.’

Wise words. Who would be the chicken?

This day, Lord, may I soar on wings like eagles, strength renewed as I fully trust in the Lord. I put all my hope in Him, trusting Him for issues both global and individual.

 

Cherry Carpet

 

We couldn’t reach them to harvest, but we should have spread tarpaulins under the ‘geen’ (wild cherry) trees that line our driveway. Storm winds stripped the branches and threw the over-ripe but still juicy black cherries down to give the driveway and grass verges a dose of cherry pox. I dragged the empty dustbins back to the house, unaware – until I was in the middle of the carnage – that  those cherries would stain my shoes and threaten our floors. I spent awhile afterwards with a toothpick to dig out the squashed fruit, and water to wash off the black juice.

With visiting children scheduled for this morning, Don and I were outside yesterday sweeping and hosing off the vibrant black smashes before they could stain kids’ shoes and transfer inside.

(I know, this is why it’s a good idea for everyone to leave their shoes at the door. A habit we never developed.)

Such a shame we couldn’t have harvested more of those sweet cherries for jam, pies, ice cream …

Lord, may I bear fruit today that enriches lives, warms hearts, feeds minds, reveals your abundant love and provision for all of your children. May I be willing to humble myself, to bend down and reach out to those whose struggles blind them to the sweet provision you offer. May I reach out to those I read about and offer a word of encouragement, a hand of friendship, an assurance of the love of God.

Don’t let me cling on to the gifts you give me, until time spoils and storms batter those gifts and render them useless.

The gifts are for the healing of the nations. Thanks be to God.

A Lone Pine

 

A lone pine.

We’d heard the saws, the roaring engines. Seen the signs warning of dangers because logging was underway. When silence returned, I took a walk.

The familiar path, familiar over forty-five years of treading, was still there, but suddenly I was lost. The road split, but not where I expected: the curtain and fabric of trees was gone. Years of building dens with children and grandchildren, of engineering and damming puddles and ditches, erased. I didn’t recognise the terrain.

With a shock, I recognised that the apocalyptic landscape now piled high with tree trunks was our former playground. I stood in silence in the late afternoon sun, mourning the loss. Those trees bore witness to so many heartfelt prayers poured out by me. Prayers of grief and sorrow. Prayers of petition and desperation. Prayers of joy and celebration. Prayers of peace.

A place of exploration for the kids – just weeks ago three of our grandchildren found badgers’ dens there. Where have they gone, I wonder, those homeless badgers?

Then I saw the tree, alone and askew. It must have stood at the edge of the forest, its outer half reaching out to sunlight and warmth, its inner half stunted by shadow and other trees. It stands deformed, rooted but unbalanced, incomplete.

I had been reading the obituary of a pastor who had very strong views about certain aspects and branches of Christian teaching and expression. Perhaps he had remained rooted in Jesus, but his experiences or teaching skewed his growth so that he flourished on one side, while stunted on the other.

Lord, may I receive from you and you alone, so that I remain rooted and abiding in Jesus, spreading his branches of love and light, mercy and grace, in all directions, providing shade and sanctuary on all sides. Where my understanding and growth have been stunted, bring your healing restoration, I pray.

Come alongside

 

They put on old clothes, donned gloves and headed into the barn to load the trailer with its fourth load for the dump. They dragged heavy window frames, lighter louvred doors and kitchen cupboard doors into the light, brushed them down and took pictures so we could put them up on some platform and find them a new home. They strimmed and cut grass, dug out overgrown plants and weeds, swept the drive and more … all the while smiling and responding to the requests and demands of three active children.

They came alongside us and picked up some of the jobs we were struggling to keep up with.

Love in action. We are both so grateful, and so encouraged. Thank you, Jamie and Chrisie.

Jesus invites us to be harnessed into the same yoke as he is, so that he can bear the burden of the pull. It’s not always easy to accept offers of help. We like to be independent: my parents used to tell me that as a young child I often refused offers of help with an impatient, ‘I can do it!’

Sometimes we can’t do it on our own. Usually we can’t, though we struggle on stubbornly.

Jesus welcomes us: Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will refresh you.

Who isn’t weary these days? Who isn’t heavy-laden – both personally and in a world-weary way?

Lord, I come to you today, and offer you my ‘to-do’ list. Please scratch off those things which aren’t important, and help me to buckle in beside you to accomplish the rest. I am so grateful to have such a divine helper. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, my helper and my friend, my saviour and my Lord.

God is Everywhere

 

I slipped into my prayer window after a busy time preparing food for some of our family, who will arrive soon. I sensed a sigh of relief. The chicken is bubbling. The jellies are setting in their moulds. The cake for the pre-birthday celebration rests in the cake saver. With an hour to spare.

I started the timer for the five minutes – paltry, I know – which I mark out for listening particularly to God’s voice to me. I sensed his welcome, and his whisper that he loves it that I have a special place set aside to encounter him, but that, in fact, he is no more present in that prayer window than he is in the kitchen, the garden, or the garage. It is me that is more present in that special place.

Lord, as I anticipate a busy, happy weekend, may I also anticipate catching your eye in the eye of loved grandchildren, of hearing your chuckle in the good-humour of loved son and daughter-in-law, of being stilled and consoled by your love I see in the eyes of Don. May I sense your presence amongst the livestock at the Banchory Show. May I see your exuberance in the competitors in the highland dancing. May I sense your joy in the dogs and their owners in the dog show.

Lord, I praise you for this whole world, which you have so lovingly created down to the tiniest detail. I love you, Lord. May your love and peace flow through me to all those I meet today.