Tweets

As we retraced our steps along the wooded lane, Mhairi remarked how green and lush it looked: with an old tumbledown shed to the front of us, it resembled a painting by Constable or another artist. The rain was beginning to drizzle onto us, fine and light.

Passing on to the paved drive through farming fields we became aware of a bird – perhaps a pied wagtail – ushering us onwards, darting forward and back, calling out with apparent agitation. We wondered if there were a nest nearby and he was warning us off. We speculated that once we’d departed his neighbourhood, he might have bragged about the way he saw off the intruders before they could do any real damage.

We were passing through, with no intentions towards the bird, obviously. It made me wonder, though, how often in life I see issues or people, giants, who are ‘passing through’, and I imagine them to be threats. Sometimes, I imagine that my actions prevent the threat from occurring, when, in fact, there never was danger or risk.

Sometimes an issue or a person can be a risk, though, and again, I might be the one to prevent the situation but, more likely, as I’ve agitated and worried, it’s God who has protected me from a negative result. I congratulate myself later for having accomplished something significant, when, in fact, my tweets from the sides made no difference at all.

James, the brother of Jesus, wrote that if we lack wisdom, we should ask God, who ‘gives  generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.’ In these days, there are many situations, real and fearfully imagined, which require wisdom. I don’t know about you, but I feel a little like we’re careening down a steep hill in a go-cart with nobody steering. But of course, somebody is steering. Perhaps the lack of great leadership will expose more clearly the divine leadership which will guide us all home.

We will be most effective when we stop tweeting from the side, and start praying on our knees.