Kefir for the Soul

 

I pour the thick white liquid into a glass, wince just a little and drink. Hmm … not too bad.

Kefir. I’ve heard about it for awhile, about its beneficial properties for repopulating the gut with good bacteria. As more research reveals the connection between the gut bacteria and the functioning of the brain, I’ve toyed with the idea of trying it. As long as my body is still alive, I want my brain to be optimal.

While visiting friends who drink it regularly, I’d had a wee taste. When another friend said she is drinking it regularly, I thought more about it. Then when I read a column written by a woman who tried it for a month and found a boost to her energy levels, I was sold.

So, I’m onto my second bottle of it, second week in. Watch this space.

Of course, you know what’s coming. What constitutes spiritual kefir? What can I ingest daily to maintain healthy functioning of my spiritual heart and mind? Yes, daily reading of the Bible but also following the advice of a psalm I read this morning (46): ‘Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations.’

It’s a promise to cling to and a hope to marinate in when the news of the day is dire. It is in the stillness that my spiritual good bacteria is revived and flourishes. And I don’t have to wince at all to swallow it.

Connected?

 

I lift the receiver of the land line to my ear and am assaulted by crackling, loud and insistent. Two weeks now.

We had been able to make and receive calls, albeit having to shout through the static. But now, after the efforts of three engineers over ten days, we have nothing but the static. No connection. The line has been broken and all communication stopped.

We’ve been advised the job should be completed by Thursday. There are two faults in the underground cable.

Going back a couple of decades, our children used to sing a (rather tedious) song: Prayer is like a telephone. I didn’t like the song much, but the analogy holds up.

Just like the cable establishing our phone connection, lying under dirt and weeds and subject to the vagaries of weather, my connection to God lies buried beneath the ordinary things of life, where it can become buried under activities and responsibilities and subject to the news of the day. I know that persistent soaking in the news of the day can undermine the integrity of my connection to God.

There are times when my connection to Him seems crackly. I struggle to hear His voice. I don’t need to call out an engineer though; the Engineer is waiting, alert to my cry. Instead, I need to wait on Him, trusting that He has not left me and He is listening. Even when the divine line has been degraded by the world, I know that the Lord hears my every cry because He knows my words before I utter them, my thoughts before I identify them.

I am so grateful for the gift of prayer, an unbreakable connection with the Creator of the universe. May my life today be lived as a prayer to my maker, even as I write, shop, and strip wallpaper (ugh…).

Backwards move

We said goodbye to British summer time Sunday morning. And it felt coherent with the autumn winds, which blew wild and brisk, driving clouds of cold rain through our overcast skies. Autumn – maybe even winter – has come.

There ensued the tedious task of moving the clocks back an hour, though technology does its magic on the digital devices. The good thing about setting time back an hour is the extra hour in bed; the bad thing is for the analogue clocks, one has to scroll through 23 hours in order to re-set them.

Perhaps I could just push against the forward march of the tick-tocking mechanism and wind it backwards. Somehow that just doesn’t seem right though. I feel like something could break.

Neither does it seem right for some of the world’s leaders to be choosing retrograde options for development. Justice issues and human rights successes of the past century being undermined as history is rewritten and power is contained by a privileged and prejudiced few.  Environmental protections erased as power grabs for the quick buck. I feel like something could break.

I kneel at the foot of the cross, worshipping the one whose victory over death was won through perfect love. I trust in the one who knows the end from the beginning. The one who loves his creation and his creatures. Who died for his world.

His brokenness on the cross has opened the way for us to enter and live in the kingdom now and forever.

Lord, be exalted in your earth today, in the halls of justice and the offices where power is exercised. When we walk through dark valleys, may we have no fear, knowing that you, our good shepherd, Jesus, are with us always. 

The Grey Bird

 

The Grey Bird Sings, by Dr Karen Price, tells the true story of the inspirational life of a remarkable Chinese Christian woman, Betty Kwan Chinn, who survived unbelievable brutality and tortures at the hands of the Revolutionary Guards during China’s Cultural Revolution. Eventually, still a child, she escaped and has lived a life of selfless service to the marginalised in a city on the California / Oregon border, Eureka.

I am haunted by this woman’s courage and selfless motivation, and her humble service to the poor and outcasts in her city. The terrible suffering she endured has given her empathy and a deep love for others who suffer mental and physical disabilities, who often lack shelter, food and hope. In one moving passage in the book, as she gently washes the filth from the legs of a disabled man, she looks up into his face and sees the face of Jesus. Though she has received many awards and honours, they were never her motivation.

In this world of pride and pain, Jesus’ compassion and love extend through the arms of those who serve him.

May I be alert today to the needs of those in my area, quick to serve and never counting the cost to myself. Make me a channel of your peace, Lord Jesus.

Spirit Decay

 

So, I settled into the prayer window this morning, aware of the fresh taste of clean in my mouth. Having just brushed my teeth, I could feel that nothing that might rot or decay the enamel of these rather elderly teeth remained.

How important it is to keep my inner life scrubbed and clean, free from gripes and grudges that can fester and decay. We all have our preferences and can apply them to our expectations of others. When others fail to fulfil those expectations, it is so easy to allow thoughts to focus on the disappointment, decaying a bit of our own inner life. A cavity develops in our spirit and, if not brought to the Divine Dentist, can deepen and widen, causing more pain and more damage to the person God created us to be.

Lord, may I nurse no disappointments in others today: may all my expectations centre on you and your grace and mercy.

Golden Grace

 

Golden glow.

Yes, the leaves on the trees are in the middle of their seasonal transformation. Oh, how glorious! Greens are fading fast; yellows, russets and golden tones light up the branches as they strain towards the sky, turning trees to vibrant torches.

Across the browning grass, a carpet of these beautiful leaves thickens day by day.

As I walked through the house this morning, I noticed more than just the fall array on the trees and bushes outside: there was a golden glow in the air itself. Somehow the season’s colourful array is reflected in the atmosphere. There was a softness, a splendour, a majestic matte of golden light.

There’s a lot of talk right now about kings and kingship. Images of golden crowns. Misplaced – tragically misplaced.

‘The One enthroned in heaven laughs … then he rebukes them in his anger…Therefore, you kings, be wise; be warned, you rulers of the earth.’

The earth is the Lord’s. The heavens declare the glory of the Lord. Even the atmosphere glows with the golden grace and reflects the loving power of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

Worship him, and him only.

Bucolic Bliss

 

A picture of bucolic bliss extends into the field surrounding our house this morning. A few brown and white cows stand, necks bent as they graze the grass in the field they entered yesterday. Most of the herd are lying down, contentedly chewing the cud.

There is a rhythm to their ingesting and digesting. A wisdom to it. A peace about it.

It can be tempting to consume news and information constantly, scrolling our news feeds and social media until we have information indigestion.

I have a picture in my mind, a beautiful memory of my dad, sitting in his chair in an evening, having watched some news, read a paper, and then just sitting quietly, ruminating.

I am guilty of checking my To-Do list too often, of being driven to endless activity. I know I’ve posted about this before. Martha, not Mary.

Perhaps I need to add another bullet-point to that endless list. Ruminate.

Lord, may I be attentive to your still, small voice today, taking time to listen, reflect, hear, possibly understand – but at least, trust that whatever mess I and the world are in, you are in it with us. In that understanding, I find peace. Bucolic bliss.