Nurturing the Seed

During the Lockdown, we were inspired in the garden, and planted a couple of things we’ve not tried before. We put in four courgette (zucchini) plants, and when they sprouted, we put two outside in the garden and kept two inside in the conservatory. One outdoor one was immediately chewed off at the base by a voracious snail. (Having subsequently discovered a fat hedgehog snoozing in the leaves in the garage, surrounded by empty snail shells, we think perhaps that snail got his come-uppance!) The other outdoor one struggles on, with one or two flowers but so far, no veg.

Inside was a different story. Both have grown like prehistoric jungle plants, putting out glorious flowers, setting baby courgettes which then yellow, wither and die. So far we’ve eaten nothing. We googled the problem, and discovered the flowers need pollinating by bees and insects, so by being inside, perhaps that’s the problem. We now have a paintbrush at the ready, but still, nothing in the pot.

We also planted aubergines (eggplant). Six plants. Three still look like seedlings, a couple of inches tall at best. The others are beginning to grow, but nothing has flowered, and those aubergine feasts we anticipated will probably not now happen. It’s trickier than one would imagine.

Alpha is running in our church now. The seed of faith in and love for Jesus is being sown in hearts prepared by the Lord. With his help, we can keep them watered and fed and bring faith to fruition. It’s not a done deal; it’s not a straightforward process. I pray for the wisdom of Christ within his church so that we can nurture and encourage one another daily, wherever we are on the faith journey.

In the Beginning, God

I am doing a twelve-week course called The Artist’s Way, which has been around for twenty-five years. It was written by a writer to share the techniques that she found to unblock her creativity, and I am finding it is helping me recover permission to ‘play’, to explore my creativity in many areas and primarily to connect with God as the creator of everything.

During this fourth week, we are not supposed to read anything. I am reading my Bible, but nothing else (except emails and messages). It’s an interesting challenge, designed to silence the ‘other’ voices so the inner voice is clearer.

I have found that lock-down has released me from commitments and that has given me space and time to explore and to focus on rewriting the book I wrote fifteen years ago.

Jesus came so that we could have life, and have it to the full. As I re-engage with creativity on many levels and in many forms, I feel stirring within me a sense of joy, a joy which has eluded me for some time.

In the beginning, God. I have gone back to the beginning. 

Spiritual Breathlessness

I remember my good friend Tori telling me about the technique of circular breathing when playing the flute. It involves breathing in through the nose while blowing out through the mouth. It’s trickier than it sounds. Impossible, in my case. I failed to get a sound out of the flute no matter what breathing technique I used.

Obviously, it is necessary when playing sustained notes or at accelerated speeds. Learners probably take years of practice before they perfect the technique.

It makes me think of my connectedness to God. I need to be receiving his guidance and thoughts while speaking, interacting, in this world. Especially I am aware of my spiritual breathlessness when someone is upset or looking to me for advice on a situation or problem in their life. I am aware of my own lack of wisdom, and don’t want to be encouraging someone down the wrong path.

Like the technique of circular breathing, circular prayer takes time to learn. Unlike the technique of circular breathing, though, staying in touch with God to enable him to speak through my words and actions takes nothing more than my minute-by-minute receptiveness to him. As I open myself up and trust fully in him, he will put the words in my mouth. As James, the brother of Jesus, wrote, ‘If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt…’

So today I determine to ask, to believe, and not doubt.

God Provides

Late afternoon yesterday, I went out into the garden to harvest what was ready. The weather was cold, more autumnal than summery, but it was dry.

I gathered a couple of punnets of spinach for the spinach/mushroom lasagna for dinner, brought in a lettuce to have salad with it. Pulled half a punnet of raspberries, same again of strawberries, and with Don’s help, half a punnet of cherries. Then I remembered to check the peas and sure enough, a punnet-full was ready.

I had collected more than we could eat for dinner. I’ve just enjoyed some of the berries on my cereal.

God provided manna for the children of Israel in the wilderness. He gave them just enough for each day. Last night, he provided more than enough for the three of us to eat in one meal. Even in a time of challenge and plague, God provides enough. He provides plenty.

Today, whatever I lack, I look to the Lord to provide. He will give me just what I need, whether it be compassion or wisdom, knowledge or strength, and on top of that he will pour love, joy, hope and peace.

God is my provider. He gives me everything I need. I am so grateful.

Congregation of Cows

The cows congregate beside the gate of the field. A yellow digger, lights blinking, is stationary in the field nearby. On the road, two green vans are parked. A couple of yellow-vested, hard-hatted workers discuss tactics and then begin to position a new electricity pole. It’s been lying on the verge for months, waiting to carry the weight of live wires when the old pole comes down.

My neighbour phoned to remind me the electricity will be off on Friday for several hours, while the actual switch is made. I’m grateful for her reminder, so I can fill a thermos with hot water and get the camping stove out for lunch. It’s heart-warming to have friends to remind us of things that may interrupt our routines and enable us to be effective in our planning.

Times of transition, to go smoothly, need hours of thoughtful preparation.

Life, itself, is limited, is short. There will come a day when we will move from this world to the next. Prayerful preparation will make that a happy transition, not one to be feared. I am grateful for friends and family who are walking me home, reminding me of the faithfulness of our loving Father.

Jesus encourages us to be alert, to stay close, to keep focused on him. Maintaining focus on Jesus, who never leaves nor forsakes us, will make the switch from this world to the next one we can make without fear. The disconnect will be imperceptible as Jesus carries us further into his Kingdom.

In this world, you will have trouble, Jesus foresaw. But take heart, he said, I have overcome the world. There is no fear in love.

Hammering on the gates

The woodpecker, beautiful in its red, white and black markings, battered at the tree trunk, his beak like a jack hammer. I watched him flit to the old wooden fence post and continue his ferocious assault as he sought his breakfast.

On the dirt beside him, a blackbird used the same technique in seeking out her breakfast of bugs and creepy crawlies. It looks a little less headache-inducing, but still involves a fair amount of energy and power.

I am so grateful that I can get my spiritual nourishment from our Lord without having to hammer at the gates of heaven. He invites us to come to the waters and drink. When we seek him, he is found. He is gentle, loving, responsive to the cries and the laughter of his children.

No hammering required. Just an open, loving heart and a receptive mind.

Once again, I start the day full of gratitude and grace.

I paused at the loch at the entrance to the Castle grounds, standing where I once stood for hours on end, throwing sticks for an energetic and enthusiastic Dusty. We were on the path of the ‘wet walk’. The loch was quiet, reflecting the trees overhanging, scummed with pollen and twigs.

I walked on, across the boardwalk, noticing. At first the burn was sluggish, murky and thick. I walked on until I heard the welcome chatter of the bubbling burn, Coy Burn. Again, I paused, another favourite bathing spot of Dusty’s. I stood still, alone, letting the refreshing sound of the bubbling burn wash over me, drenching me in its peace. Delight is to be found in paying attention. I waited.

I waited, paying attention. Plenty, I sensed the Lord saying to me. Plenty. An odd word in relation to a bubbling burn. Not one I would have chosen. Why did he?

Plenty. Whatever we have, however much or however little, it is plenty in his hands. I think of the little boy’s lunch. He brought it to Jesus to share with thousands of hungry people. A little bread and fish. It was plenty.

What I have, I bring to Jesus today. Life depletes me. Things in the world can deplete me, but Jesus has overcome the world. That was a favourite scripture verse of my sister Judy, who died 34 years ago yesterday. Her loss has depleted my life but the Lord invites me to bring what I have, who I am, what I dream, to him, and he will make it plenty.

Plenty is a lovely word. It’s not just enough: it’s abundance, it’s pressed down and overflowing. Today I choose to live in the plenty of the life that Jesus gives me. Jesus, who came to give us life, life to the full, pressed down and overflowing. No matter the circumstances.

The battle belongs to the Lord

A diminutive rowan tree sits opposite my prayer window, dwarfed by the ancient larch and the younger but much more robust Norwegian elm. Rather than one strong trunk, this rowan is a mass of intertwining trunks of varying sizes.

This morning I noticed that between two gnarled trunks, on the large size in this collection and bearing the scars of age, a slim, unmarked trunk emerges and reaches heavenwards. No visible scars are there yet. And on either side of it, the older trunks are there to support, to protect, and to encourage.

When the Israelites went out to fight the Amalekites, Moses watched the action below on the plains, where Joshua led the troops. As long as Moses kept his arms holding his staff up, the Israelites prevailed. When his arms grew tired and began to drop, the Amalekites gained strength. Aaron and Hur got a seat for Moses, and then they stood, one on either side, supporting Moses’ arms until at last the battle was over, and the Israelites had won.

A new Alpha course is starting online at our church. The meetings will be supported by a team of pray-ers, Zooming at the same time but also at other moments during the weeks. Those pray-ers are like Aaron and Hur, holding up those who are in the front line leading the course.

Whichever role we are called to be in, may we play our part with imagination, focus and faith that God is in it. The battle belongs to the Lord.

Storms

Several trees have gone down since I was last on the wet walk round Crathes Castle. Some magnificent ones, whose roots wouldn’t relinquish their grip on the soil, so as they crashed to the ground, they tore circular halos of earth and wood which now rise above their horizontal resting places. Ecosystems have moved in, and thankfully, no fastidious gardeners have tidied up.

One tree caught my eye particularly. A less robust tree, tall and thin, had been dislodged from the soft earth on one side of Coy Burn. It now leans across the width of the burn, its top branches caught and held by other young trees on the other side.

Life’s storms can knock us down. Sometimes, they totally flatten us, killing our dreams, questioning our love, undermining our faith. Sometimes, as we start to totter, a friend or a stranger offers us a stronger shoulder on which to rest. Sometimes that other person just holds us until we regain our equilibrium and can once more withstand the buffeting winds. Sometimes, (though not in the tree’s case!), that other person walks with us a few steps, a few miles, a few years, walking us home.

May you have a friend on whom to lean today, or be a friend on whom someone else can lean. May we all be aware of one another, intuitively ready to be the stronger shoulder or the steadying hug.

Delicate Aromas

A delicate scent wafts from the sweet peas in a vase on the table. They are lovely – shades of mauve and pink, lilac and white, and release such a sweet aroma: brings a smile to my face. The seeds were planted indoors in late February, in cardboard toilet rolls, and then carefully transplanted and trained up a trellis. A lot of work, but worth it.

Last week I had the wild sweet peas in a vase on the table. They reappear year after year: prolifically spreading across the flower bed, they are no work, but they give off no sweet scent.

The Bible talks of the sweet scent of Jesus. We can be ‘carriers’ of his aroma. It doesn’t take work, lest I appear to be saying we need to earn his presence in our lives. It does take focus and dedication, and a real heart-felt desire to carry his fragrance into every situation we face today.

There’s no artifice in his fragrance. Truth, justice, mercy and love mingle to sweeten the sourest of situations. May I never lose my hope in the Lord, who is working in every dire circumstance, bringing comfort to the heartbroken and weary and encouragement to the despairing, May I never lose my expectation that he can turn every disaster around. Thank you, Lord.

White Noise

When Mhairi was living in a particularly noisy neighbourhood, where ambulance sirens screamed at all hours and helicopters hovered overhead, where a flatmate’s heavy tread on bare floorboards punctuated the air, she turned on a fan when she went to bed. The white noise of the whirring fan dulled all the other cacophony and lulled her to sleep.

Sometimes I come to God in prayer with my fan turned on. I really am looking for him to dull the noise of my anxious thoughts, the whirr of helicopter worries circling in my mind, and give me peace.

I don’t want to keep doing that. I want to turn the fan off so I can really connect with God and hear his voice clearly. I no longer want to be simply lulled by his wonderful presence; I want to hear his voice clearly so I can respond to his challenges and his guidance.

Even if it means being awake in the night, praying. I just read that if you can worry, you can pray, because worry is taking prayer requests into a cul de sac of the mind whereas prayer is taking them to the throne of the King.

No more white noise in the presence of the King.

A lattice of light

A lattice of light penetrates the leaves of the cherry tree outside the upstairs room I use for writing.

I can focus on the leaves which block the light. Or I can focus on the light coming through the leaves.

Today I choose to focus on the light penetrating the leaves. The leaves are not bad in themselves. Beneath some of them hang rows of ripening cherries. There is promise and goodness in the leaves.

There’s a time for everything. A time to focus on the light and ignore other things that get in the way, good and bad. A time to focus on the leaves and bring in the harvest.

Without the light, there will be no harvest.

Today I choose to focus on the light.

Breezy

Outside the prayer window, the breeze ruffles the twigs and leaves, first one way, then the next. It whips in from the west, tickles and teases in erratic rhythm, which is no rhythm at all.

The substantial tree trunks remain rooted to the spot, unbending, unaffected by the trifling, playful breeze.

It is good to be rooted, to have my roots down deep in Jesus and not be swayed by the capriciousness of the changing winds. But if I only stand rigid and planted, and never allow the breezes to play through my mind, I think I will die. My leaves will drop and my branches will decay and I will stand twisted and stark against the sky, dead.

I need those leaves which are dancing this morning, to gather the life from the sunshine and photosynthesize it into who I am. I need to play and laugh and enjoy breezes which may not always come from the same direction. I need to dance with the breezes, retaining my hold on the goodness of God and the faithfulness of Jesus, while allowing some of my ideas to be challenged and even change direction of growth.

I may be rooted in Jesus, but I have much to learn. The older I get, the more I understand how little I understand, and how much is to be gained from listening to and playing with the ideas of children, of people of different experience, of different race, of different nationality, of different religion.

May I always welcome the breezes, bouncing new ideas off of me, challenging me to reconsider my attitudes, encouraging me, sometimes, to repent – change direction.

Still Floundering

So here we are, floundering in the icy depths. Frozen in apprehension, indecision, fear for the future, sorrow, guilt, whatever. I’ve never, thankfully, plunged through the ice and into the water beneath but I would imagine that the first instinct is to pull out onto the icy edges still intact, hoping it is thicker and stronger there.

The thing is, though, that the only secure footing is getting to the land bordering the loch. We don’t want to return to the precariousness of walking on ice. We want to plant our feet firmly on solid ground.

As we take tentative steps towards unlocking life during this pandemic of Covid-19, which is still raging all around, we don’t want to find ourselves plunging back into the icy waters. These steps need to be prayerfully taken. I may not have much influence on Boris or Nicola or Donald Trump, but I can determine my own return to a more social life, and can do that prayerfully.

As society starts to rebuild and recover, we don’t want to rebuild on sheet ice, but on solid ground. We want to put down foundations of justice and mercy and equality, re-imagining society so that all members can enjoy life free of the fear of violence and brutality. We want to put down foundations that secure environmental integrity, and that should involve less commuting, less consuming, less attention to inconsequential.

We want to rebuild on the rock of Jesus. The prayers of God’s people are powerful to effect change. With confidence in his faithfulness, I pray today that we will come out of our plunge into the icy waters with a deeper awareness of God’s love for his creation and his creatures, with a deeper love for him who so loves us, and with a deeper love for his creation and our fellow women and men.