Dawn broke

Dawn broke with a beautiful sunrise this morning, and as I looked out on the landscape, daylight had arrived. Up the road came a couple of cars, with their headlights still on. Automatic lights, sensing the strength of the light and reacting. Though the darkness had lifted and to me it appeared ‘as light as day’, a late October day in northern Scotland is just not that light.

I can assume that the world is lighter than it is. My friends are good people. My family work hard for justice and peace. The news is full of darkness, but my neighbourhood seems light. I can power along in my own lane, with my limited vision. Not a great idea.

This is where I need the automatic light Jesus provides. He is the light of the world. When I travel with him, he shines a light on things I hadn’t noticed, things I might be able to help with in some way.

It’s too easy to belt along assuming that I’m seeing clearly through my own lenses. I really need the light of the world every moment of every day, to avoid being mis-led. May I never forget that. 

Breath-taking Architecture

 

My cousin Carol Lynn sent me an email with breath-taking pictures of incredible homes designed and built by Michael Jantzen. These homes are designed responsive to the environment in which they sit: some dangle from cliff tops, perch on precipices, are dug out of hillsides or nestle in nooks. Each is unique and oh, so creative.

Some of them grow out of rocky island outcrops which are the same size as the foundations of the buildings.

Unconventional seems too mild a term even for describing these homes.

Jesus was not conventional, and maybe unconventional is too mild a term for the life he led. He wasn’t what my dad would have called a ‘hot dogger’, drawing attention to himself to enhance his own ego. But neither did he hide within convention to avoid rocking the boat. If it needed rocking, he did it. He healed on the sabbath, again and again. He raised women up as equals and gave them dignity and purpose. He respected children. He defied religious trappings which had wandered from God’s ways. He befriended the lepers and the outcasts. He challenged the powerful.

I’m thinking of my own life, and wondering whether I settle for convention because it is comfortable, doesn’t draw stares and isn’t challenging to maintain. It’s easy to sit in a granite farmhouse, looking out at a technicolour autumn, and enjoy God. It’s more taxing to spend time lobbying for justice and fighting for those who have no options or opportunities.

Some of Michael Jantzen’s creations are built on rocky outcrops where there is little except the firm foundation on which they sit. Today, may my roots be keyed into Jesus, held so firmly in him that I do not shy away from saying or doing or being whatever is right, is loving, is just and gracious and merciful. May whatever I do with this day God has given me, bring a smile to his face and relief to others.

The Crown of Glory

 

The crown of glory – stunning red leaves on the acer tree – is beginning to drop. Red leaves lie on the spent vegetable patch. Their moment has passed, but maybe now that their beauty has gone, their value will be more enhanced than ever. What they have been will break down and enrich the soil, preparing it to nurture the next season.

God is doing a new thing in his church in this season. His church is not buildings and walls; it is people building bridges to each other and into a hurting world. What has gone before has, at times, been glorious, and now, if we work with Him, it can nurture a future church which is more alive than ever, more generous in its love, more gracious in its compassion and mercy, more forgiving in its attitudes.

This is some of what God showed me when I lingered with him yesterday. Surely time well-spent.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him today, watching carefully so you don’t miss the bruised reeds he’s drawing you to comfort, the broken hearts he’s calling you to encourage.

This is the day he has made, and he goes through it with each one of us. Closer than we imagine.

I Confess

 

 I confess. I did enjoy an extra hour in bed, despite yesterday’s blog.

So this afternoon, I decided to grab that hour back and give it to God. So far, I’m just a quarter of the way there. I read my reading, which was from John, about the woman at the well. I thought about it, and then I thought about our church service this morning.

That led to a complaint. ‘I am so sick of Zooming to church,’ I moaned. ‘Everyone is at arm’s distance; there is no way to sense what anyone is feeling; silences are empty and uncomfortable; conversation is stilted as we’re all so aware that if more than one speaks at a time, it becomes a garbled mess that nobody can follow.’

Then, much as in the encounter Tony Stephen described in his sermon this morning (Banchory West Church), I sensed words coming back to me. ‘I know what you mean,’ God said. ‘You zip into your quiet space, rattle through your routine, pause a minute or two and Zoom off.’

How often my time with God is as distanced as a Zoom service can feel! Mhairi spent two hours Zooming with a good friend the other night. They each had a glass of wine. I could hear the joy, the laughter, and afterwards Mhairi said it almost felt like they were together. They had set aside time, chosen a beverage, and relaxed together. Both were refreshed, energised, encouraged.

I think that’s more the type of prayer God longs for me to give him. So I’m off now, with a glass of water (it’s mid-afternoon), for the other 45 minutes. I’ll let you know tomorrow how it goes.

An extra hour

The clocks change tonight. Spring forward, fall back. Hurray!

 An extra hour added to my life! What will I do with that one precious hour? What will you do?

How often I have said, ‘Oh yes! An extra hour in bed!’ In the cold light of day, I wonder why I would value time in bed over other things – perhaps listening to music, reading a poem or a novel, talking with someone I love? It doesn’t make sense. Carpe diem!

During the isolating restrictions of covid-19, there are probably many who don’t want extra hours. Extra hours of loneliness, of boredom perhaps, of sadness: extra hours to fill. People are weary; many are depressed.

One route to restoration is to use that extra hour to draw near to God. To talk with him openly and honestly. He has loved us ‘with an everlasting love’. His promise is to give us rest, to rebuild us, to give us back joy and dancing. He forgives everything, and gives us his Holy Spirit to inspire and guide us to make good decisions. Jesus’ promise is to never leave us, and he doesn’t.

I hope to use my extra hour to remind myself of these promises. 

Eye of imagination

 

Season of mellow fruitfulness, as Keats wrote. Yellows and oranges and russets and browns; apples enriched and sweetened in the final warm rays of a departing sun. It’s time to gather in the final harvest before winter begins to bite.

As she went out the door, Felicity turned back and handed me the top of an acorn she had gathered. ‘It’s a tea cup,’ she explained.

Tiny details. Some of the delight of being with young children is seeing again, seeing afresh, re-imagining the details of our world.

In a pandemic where the newsfeed is of further restrictions, it’s helpful to focus in on nature and let God speak to us all through his eye for detail. The isolation of socially distanced relationships does not apply to our relationship with our heavenly Father. Whatever tomorrow holds, God is in it with us.

Fall Colours

 

Mom said how blessed they were in southern California with great weather. I agreed, and then countered that we are blessed here with glorious autumnal showstopping colours.

After our conversation, I decided to collect a few fallen leaves of varying shades and pop them in a card to brighten her day. I left them in a kitchen window and watched them dry out and curl and then it dawned on me: if I put those into an envelope, by the time they go through the franking machines and various hands between Scotland and California, they will be nothing but a shower of confetti pieces which will have lost all shape and beauty.

I turned to google and learned how to press them first, in a heavy book. Fittingly, I put them in the leaves of an ancient family Bible Don has, huge and heavy. When they are dry, I’ll send them, and hope they arrive looking as lovely as they do now.

As I walk through my life, events colour me. Time ages me and I can become brittle, and the beauty of wisdom and experience can harden into the ugliness of arrogant prejudice and presumption. I need to be pressed every day, pressed every day in God’s good book, so that I retain a humility and openness, a thirst for learning and a delight in this good world God has created. So that I can give joy to others, and not irritation.

The world can be a hard place, and if we let it, the years can warp and twist us until we fall apart in brittle little bits. Only as I bring myself to God regularly and let his love embrace me, will I be able to remain supple and reflect his glorious colours of love, joy, peace and hope.

A Wilting Flower

 

A wilting flower languishes in front of me, leaning out of the Winnie-the-Pooh cup. It was on its last legs when Greg picked it, but in his eyes, it was still a beautiful hot pink-coloured flower which he proudly gave me. We found a suitable ‘vase’ and it brightens the table.

I look at the flower and I see Greg, charging round the garden looking for flowers to give me. I hear his happy chatter as he mixed potions and made me a supper and a cup of tea. I smile.

My morning quiet times are not always rich and fulfilling. Sometimes I’m distracted, rushed, or entertaining emotions or thoughts other than focusing on God. But even when my offering to God is like a wilting flower, I sense that he loves it. He knows the desire of my heart is to hear from him, and though my hearing is often impaired, still he treasures the imperfect gifts I offer him.

We are in the season of Thanksgiving, and as the holiday approaches next month, I challenge myself to thank God multiple times during each day, to thank him for things big and small. Right now, I thank him for this wilting flower on my table, reminding me of the love of a precious grandson.

A little bug

 

Because a little bug sneezed … a litany of crises ensued, one leading to another, and all initiated by that little bug’s ‘ka-choo!’.

There is young life in this house again, and I’ve already (at 9.30am) been read to, been to a dance party, and read an old favourite to these precious children. Kids keep you young, reviving what was beginning to flag.

Before I did any of the above, I closed my bedroom door and spent some time with God. Because I have learned the truth of the message of that book I read to Greg and Flick. I know myself that when I start my day right – with a prayer and a quiet time (not a sneeze…) – then the rest of the day is likely to go better. Or, rather, my attitude to the way things go, is definitely more positive.

Whatever this day holds, I am aware that Jesus is with me. Whatever this day holds for you, Jesus is with you. May you know his peace that passes all understanding.

 

Refresh the Page

 

Refresh the page. Sometimes a computer screen freezes, and only resumes functionality when the page is refreshed or the computer is re-started.

Things have changed here, as we have welcomed family to share our home while they are transitioning, awaiting the autumn of the virus and a lifting of restrictions. So my prayer corner is literally a corner this morning, and I am facing a concertina wall installation whose protruding prongs hold my collection of necklaces.

Precious necklaces. Not the kind a thief would relish. But to me, irreplaceable. The small sapphire Don brought back from a business trip to Hong Kong, over thirty years ago. An amber rope from Russia; a Jet necklace from Whitby: anniversary trips and gifts during our many years of marriage. The gold filigree butterfly which my mother’s brothers and sisters bought for my sister when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. The turquoise rope Don and I bought on a trip to Arizona, when we needed chains to visit the Grand Canyon so had to postpone that visit until a later date. Necklaces chosen with love and care by my sons and daughter on different occasions: two red hearts, a cluster of three silver ‘tear-drops’, a small amethyst, a turquoise daisy. A couple of sparkly ones from my mother, and three crosses of varying sizes. And a chunky wooden adornment crafted for me by Felicity.

When I put on one of these necklaces, I remember. I remember the givers; I think of the significance; I savour the memories.

God instructed his people to write down his commandments and wear them, so they would remember what he told them, so they would remember him and would live.

Jesus gave us an upgrade. He died to give us his Holy Spirit living within us, reminding us of his love, of his standards, of his faithfulness. He removed our hearts of stone and replaced them with hearts of flesh. What was on the outside, has been internalised because of Jesus’ love and sacrifice.

On this busy Monday morning, I am grateful for that upgrade. I am grateful that I don’t have to wear anything particular wrapped round my neck. And I am aware that inviting the Holy Spirit to fill me again is an essential part of my morning ritual.

My prayer focus has been refreshed, but my God is still the same. Always with me, whispering his words of love and guidance. On this Monday, I am grateful. Oh, so grateful.

 

Ever-present Help

 

I lift my eyes to the hills – my help is in the name of the Lord.

The angel gave Mary the most astounding news. When she’d awoken that morning, she did not anticipate what the day held, and when she encountered the angel and heard what God was calling her to be, her acceptance is astonishing. ‘I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.’

What does today hold for me? For you? I know the plans I have; Doug and Joey are moving in with us today, so my plans revolve around that. But beyond that? What are the plans God has? What might transpire during this day?

Whatever it is, may I have the same courage and strength that Mary showed. She didn’t really know what she was being asked. She couldn’t really anticipate what would happen. But she lifted her eyes to the hills and she trusted in the Lord.

He is our ever-present help in time of pandemic, of economic hardship, of political insecurity and upheaval, of separation. 

The Splendour

 

We picked up Prince Charming and Jasmine as planned, and headed off to the socially-distanced Disney-themed lunch experience. My sister-in-law had invited us to the event, held in a three-sided marquee: chilly in October in Scotland, but the weather co-operated and when the sun was out, it was warm.

There were a couple of Snow Whites there, and one Sleeping Beauty. Woody from Toy Story, and Bella from Beauty and the Beast. An entertainer sang a few of the Disney movie theme songs; a Disney quiz and a Disney-themed scavenger hunt were also part of the afternoon. But probably the memorable moments for these precious children were those spent climbing the trees that ringed the grass.

Our world is full of slick marketing, but the real beauty, especially in autumn, is all around us, in the natural beauty God has given us to enjoy. No slick marketing required. Just eyes wide open and a heart ready to pause and receive the message of love God is sending.

Enjoy the splendour while it lasts!

Wounded World Healed

 

I am nearly 70, and yet I have never sung in a choir. When I was about 10, I auditioned for the school glee club and was turned down, which undermined my confidence for years…

Well, I’ve signed up for the church Christmas choir (virtual), and am, for the first time in my life, trying to learn the alto 1 part. It’s not difficult. It’s just different from anything I’ve done before. The song is beautiful, and if I can manage the technology to record it and send that in, it will be amazing to see a gathered group of believers singing together in harmony, without ever practicing together.

It’s all led to me thinking about the music of creation. Googling that, I discovered that the ancient Hebrews, and Pythagoras (of theorem fame), believed that the heavenly bodies not only ‘sing’ as they twirl and whirl through space, but that the planets are set apart in the same ratios as pleasing musical intervals.

CS Lewis, in his Narnia tales, imagined Aslan creating the universe by singing. It seems that might not be such a fanciful notion, and that just blows my mind! I love the picture of God singing away in joyful abandon and as a result, creation is born.

I have always loved the verse in Zephaniah 3:17: The Lord delights over you with singing. What an amazing gift he has given us – the gift of joining together in song, in worship. Who knows what harmonies he might create through the human voice raised in praise to him?

During these challenging and dark days, may our voices unite in singing praises to the God of peace, the God of justice, the God of mercy, the God who saves, and through our singing, may he heal this wounded world.

A Big Red Ribbon

 

An email reminder: phone banking check-in on Zoom tonight. (I registered to help get out the vote; there was a problem with me signing in, and I left it unresolved, and am now feeling guilty when I get these messages because as yet I have not resolved the problem, and therefore phoned nobody). A recurring pop-up message every time I turn on my computer: ‘there is a problem with your Microsoft account which we need to fix’. (I have tried to fix it many times and every time I run into a problem with my name, and I give up. Slightly fearful that one day it really will matter.). A Zoom link to tonight’s church prayer group sits in my inbox. (The slow speed of our internet undermined my resolve to continue with the prayer group; now our speed has been increased, but between phoning Mom at 5.30 and trying to get dinner on the table and into my stomach before 6.45, I just give up). A WhatsApp message on my phone reminds me that Mom has an eye appointment in November which the care staff made in August; (I have yet to telephone the eye doctor and ensure that the insurance covered the cost of that last appointment).

I could go on, but you get my point. My intentions are good: I want things done in an orderly way and completed neatly and tidily, but somehow it doesn’t always work like that.

My fourth grade teacher, Mrs Costuma, taught me many things, and one was about composition. Always conclude your essay with a reference to what you declared at the beginning, because in so doing you ‘tie it up with a big red ribbon. That advice has stuck with me for decades. And yet, so much of my life is messy, unresolved, and certainly not ‘tied up with a big red ribbon’.

Long ago the LORD said to Israel: “I have loved you, my people, with an everlasting love. With unfailing love I have drawn you to myself.’ (Jeremiah 31:3) I am so grateful that the Lord doesn’t leave his creation unresolved.

‘And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.’ (Phil 1:6)

I thank God today that at the end of my life, he will gather in all the loose ends and somehow tie it up with a big red ribbon.

Refuge

 

Under a pile of branches and leaves, Don found a sleeping hedgehog. In the narrow attic spaces of our house, Doug found the desiccated remains of long-dead rodents, and many large and lively spiders.

Refuge. Everyone needs a place of refuge to shelter from the storms. Sometimes it is physical shelter we need. Sometimes emotional shelter. Sometimes spiritual shelter. At the moment, probably we all need all of the above!

The other night, I became sucked into a political debate. Both sides believed that they were speaking from God’s perspective.

Psalm 37 ends, ‘The Lord helps them and delivers them; he delivers them from the wicked and saves them, because they take refuge in him.’

This morning, I wonder just how that works. Were both sides of that debate taking refuge in God – or were both or one side relying more on presumptions and the advice of others they respect?

Today, Lord, may I really take refuge in you. Keep me from arrogant assumptions. Give me your perspective, so that I can see clearly. Today, Lord, may I act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with you. Amen.

Big Branch Down

 

Agonisingly slowly, the outsized lorry with a hydraulic lifting arm reversed down the drive, underneath the low-hanging canopy of trees, to deliver a couple tons of sand in two ‘bags’. Having successfully accomplished his task, the driver drove off confidently – and his truck ripped off a branch of one of the beautiful Norwegian elm trees. Now there is an ugly scar where that substantial branch used to be. That scar will be visible for the rest of the life of the tree.

Today, Mhairi and I walked our route, which we’ve not done for a few days because of the heavy rains. As we rounded a bend through the ‘enchanted forest’, we saw the path ahead was obstructed by another fallen branch. Probably the heavy rains had weighed the long branch down, and perhaps there was a bit of rot where it emerged from the trunk, so that the tree could no longer support it. The branch cracked off, and in crashing down it tore another branch off, too.

God is faithful, and he is loving. He is our gardener, and when we submit to his regular pruning, we are saved from violent crashes which tear at the heart of our being. Pruning may be painful, but God’s pruning isn’t destructive. Instead, it encourages new growth, fresh buds.

I don’t want to wait until I have developed a destructive habit which eats into who I am, and takes part of me with it when it finally comes down. Instead, I ask God to nip all these negative things in the bud, and shape me to be who he created me to be, a child of God.

Raging Torrents

 

We gathered a few sticks and stood on a small wooden bridge over a burn. We were told the burn is usually a trickle, but yesterday, it was a raging torrent of bubbling foamy water, following all the rains. Mesmerising to gaze down into the brown water, folding over itself and sending waves forwards and backwards as it cascaded over rocks and boulders.

Callan was excited. He threw one of the sticks in, and I’ve never seen a stick sucked under so quickly, sucked under and carried on currents to resurface somewhere else, out of sight to us.

World and life events usually trickle along at a routine speed. But not in 2020. This has been a year when everyone’s trickles have swelled to become raging torrents.

It’s important to keep your footing on the bridge, to keep your roots in God. It’s important to watch out for those who might slip and fall into the swirling torrents. Love your neighbour as yourself, Jesus instructs us. May he help me to keep alert today to any who may be in a precarious position.

At peace

 

In the stillness of the living room, I am suddenly aware of a soft rhythmic sound. The cat, Indy, is snoring quietly in the prayer window… She is at peace, safe, comfortable, and at home.

The one I encounter in that prayer window – and, of course, everywhere – exudes peace. He is the source of peace. The prince of peace. Whatever the disturbance. Whatever the sorrow. Whatever the anxiety or dread.

When I go to him with my fears, he meets me right where I am. When I go to him with my anger, he meets me right where I am.  When I go to him with my joy, he meets me right where I am.

If I am full of joy, he rejoices with me. He has a reputation for being a sort of party animal…

If I’m not full of joy, then, like a divine sponge, he absorbs the disappointment, the tears, the frustration, and he embraces me in a covering of peace, a peace which permeates my being and leaves me at rest.

Like Indy, though possibly without the snores…