June gloom. Southern California used to have more
predictable weather when I was growing up, and the month of June was
characterised by early morning low clouds, giving way to sunshine around noon.
By July, the gloom had dispersed.
Here in north-eastern Scotland, there is something called
the coastal haar, which is fog. We are far enough inland usually to avoid it,
but occasionally it afflicts us as well. We’ve been under the blanket of haar
now for three or four days, with more to come. June gloom threatens to dampen
my mood.
As I looked out of my prayer window this morning, a bit grumpy
about the gloom when the rest of the island seems to be glorying in sunshine
and warmth, I became aware of the bushes on the other side. June is a time of
growth spurts, and if I don’t get the shears out soon, I won’t be seeing out of
the window at all! I was noticing the spikes of growth when suddenly I saw one,
two, three and more spider webs strung from one twig to another. They were
invisible without the damp haar, but the moisture in the air sparkled on the
delicate strands and I could see the spiders’ traps.
Life is hard world-wide right now. There are so many spikes
of suffering, and as I become focused on one or more of these spikes, I don’t
perceive the traps which lurk unseen. Traps that lure me into stances of
judgment, forgetting that ours is a God of mercy. Traps that lure me into
sloughs of despair, when ours is a God of hope. Traps which trick me into
thinking things will never get better, when ours is a God of love.
May that God of love open my eyes today to the webs of
deception. May that God of hope fill me with strength and hope by the power of
his Holy Spirit. May that God of mercy move me to work and act to right the
wrongs, leaving judgment to God as he reminds me of the mercy he has shown me
in Jesus Christ.
The haar will lift, and the webs will disappear from view,
though they will remain. May I avoid all the traps as I focus on our Lord.
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