Tears of heaven this rainy Fourth

 

On this cool and rainy 4^th of July in northeastern Scotland, I pray in tears, asking the Lord to reawaken compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience within the hearts of all who call themselves Christians and yet voted and approve of the heartless bill which has just been signed into law in the USA.

It is in a somber mood that I greet this 250^th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. Lord, have mercy on us all.

I read Paul’s admonition and instructions to the Colossians (3:12-17) and petition the Lord, to fill me again with his Holy Spirit to enable me to live to such a high standard of empathy and compassion, but also to change the hearts and minds of those in leadership positions in many countries in the world right now.

I am so thankful for the Lordship of Jesus Christ. I am so grateful that He is the loving Creator God who knows the end from the beginning and who is in ultimate control. I am so humbled that He has called me into a close walk with Him, and so eager for others to hear and respond to His call for them. Today, Lord, open eyes and ears and hearts and minds today, I pray.

King of Kings

 

King of Kings, Majesty, God of heaven living in me.

Those words from a heart-stirring praise song of a few years ago are in my head today. I just want to praise and worship the one who is above all, who has the words of eternal life, who gives me his comfort and his strength and his courage today.

May the true King make himself known in new ways to us all as we go through this day, these days. What would Jesus do? May we do the same.

June 14, 2025

I always wince

 

I always wince when the needle goes in. Because a health condition requires regular blood tests, I should be used to it. But I’m not. I always wince.

But despite the wince, I am so grateful that I have the rare (in this world) luxury of affordable health care. Free at the point of need. Because of the NHS, I don’t need to languish beside the road, waiting for a generous Samaritan to stop and help me.

I am so grateful to live in a country which prioritises help for all over help for the few, for the entitled, for the wealthy. All over the world, in some of the most surprising places, the poor and the marginalised have no hope, no help.

May God bless the NHS today. May he bless administrators with insight and common sense; may he encourage all the nurses, doctors and other staff. Just as he fed the five thousand + from five loaves and two fish, may Jesus stretch the money available, to enable shorter waiting lists and less pressure on local GP surgeries.

 

 

 

No Turning Back

 

‘Can we turn back now,’ Mary said softly. ‘I’m puffed.’

Our twice-weekly walks to the end of the road and back are not happening as regularly, and when they do, she often tires before we reach the road-end.

The Lord is calling each of us on, to follow him along the path he has chosen which is just right for us. I need to keep fit for the walk, reading and meditating and praising God daily. The path he calls me along is not as straight and even as our little road. There are twists and turns, hills and dips and valleys, challenges – some surprising, some expected. I don’t want to flag, to give up, to turn round. I want to finish the race well.

No turning back.

So grateful that Jesus is with me always, even til the end of the world.

No Rain

 

No rain for over four weeks left the garden dry as dust. Friable, though, not hard-caked. I slipped through some of the weeding with ease. The plants growing in the wrong places were lifted out with a quick flick of the hand trowel, carrying no soil on their roots. Perfect.

We had a day or two of intermittent rain. Still the soil remained dry beneath a skim of damp earth. Still easy to weed.

More rain. A couple of downpours. Another hour of weeding, this time amongst Don’s tatties. The weeds lifted easily enough but now they brought with them a blob of earth.

It got me to thinking this morning. If I don’t soak in the Word of God, in the presence of Jesus Christ, regularly, my roots in Him become disengaged, less able to cling into the matrix of the Kingdom. My faith can shrivel, even die.

Also, if I weed out the nefarious seeds of the enemy quickly, he cannot take root and stunt my faith. But if I allow the wrong rainfall to soak my thinking – the media, the news, gossip – my default thoughts and reactions will reflect fear and doubt rather than trust and faith.

May I keep my spirit clean and weed-free, Lord, so that I may really be refreshed daily in Jesus, able to grow and produce good fruit for the many starving souls all around me.

Clear skies

 

I sat gazing out of an east-facing window in the early morning. Rivers of light striped the clouds, which swirled in varying shades of grey. One of the strings of light opened into a window, a porthole exposing the bluest of skies beyond. The low-lying cloud rolled on but the circle of blue remained, and I noticed that on a higher plane altogether there was a swipe of white cloud which didn’t move, which stayed put far above.

I live on the level of the swirling rivers. Life happens. Even when in a ‘river’ of plenty and joy, I am affected by the fast-moving darker situations and events. It can be easy to be swept along and lose sight of what is true, right, noble, good, pure, lovely and admirable, distracted by the aggressions, lies, hatred and ugliness I see.

Usually I think of Jesus as the rock on which I stand, and the vine in whom I abide, (or try to), but I also lift my eyes to the skies and imagine him there as the unmoving swipe of purity high above, never changing, always loving, always encouraging.

I am so grateful for the love of Jesus Christ, for his sacrifice, his mercy and grace to me. The clouds have largely broken up and cleared now, and I step out into my day. Have a blessed one.

Returns

 

The sun on my back, warm and welcome: I bent over to weed a flower bed and plant some dahlias. Above me, a pair of swallows squabbled noisily as they flitted round the nest they make annually in the apex of the roof eaves. I’m assuming it was a quarrel as it was so loud and insistent, but perhaps it was loving excitement over the coming brood to be laid in that nest.

We love the swallows that return every year. So tiny (yet noisy…), such vibrant colours and the joy of watching them swoop in and out of the garage and caper during the evening (probably feeding is a better description of what they’re doing).

Consider the birds of the field, Jesus advises. They don’t store up but depend on God’s daily provision for them.

We had another blessed re-connection yesterday, as a now-grown son who we sponsored through Tear Fund found me on Facebook and got in touch. What a delight. What a blessing, to know he is doing well, married with family. It’s as though he migrated back here after twenty-two years to renew this long-distance relationship. God is good.

I love the way God knits us together, across regions, across generations, across cultures. May the Lord open our hearts today to receive all the richness he has for us. May we live in utter dependence on his loving-kindness, resting in his peace and not worrying about the future.