Walking each other Home

 

Had the sun shone today as it did yesterday, we would have missed the tranquillity and peace of the ‘good room’ on a cold, wet day. Instead of an afternoon of gardening, we have joined Indy in purring contentedly by a warm fire. Hopefully one of the last before the scorching summer sun comes out of hibernation.

I came back from the Dundee area yesterday clutching the first of the season’s rhubarb. Ours has barely sprouted, but just an hour south it is ready to pick.

Nature, nurture and experiences have brought each of us to different points of spiritual maturity. Today I’m thinking a lot about those who were deprived of a Christian upbringing. Those who never saw the love of God modelled to them by family or friends, and I’m praying that by action and word, those of us who know the blessing of faith and relationship with Jesus will reach out in love, humility and prayer to awaken hope in every despairing heart.

May the Lord guide us as we walk each other home.

Scanning

 

I’ve been scanning photos of Mom for a Power-point to have running at her 100^th birthday party in August. I don’t have access to many pictures, since she still has them in her apartment in Torrance, but I have quite a few.

What I’ve noticed is that through the years, despite the changing hair colour and the wrinkles, Mom is recognisable by the same warm, gentle smile, and her bright blue eyes.

People look at the outer appearance, God said to Samuel, but ‘I look at the heart’. I see Mom’s heart of generosity and love in that wonderful smile and in those shining eyes. The eyes don’t see much any more, but they still shine with love and light up with recognition of a much-loved voice.

May my eyes focus on the revelations of the heart rather than the physical appearance of everyone I meet. May I never dismiss or judge another person by their looks or even by their actions. God knows their heart. May my eyes be more focused on him, than on anyone else.

Stone of Scone

 

We’re just closing, the guide apologised. Go ahead and have a quick look.

We’d spent hours in the newly-opened Perth Museum, seeing the Stone of Destiny presentation and wandering round the many displays of historic finds in the area. Aware that the guides had their coats on, ready to leave, we sprinted up the aisle of St John’s Kirk, the oldest building in Perth. Constructed in about 1448, it is deserving of a longer look than we could give it.

I was amazed to see QR codes sprinkled round the listed building in various places, but especially this one on the communion table at the front. The oldest building in Perth fully embracing some of the newest technology. Very impressive that they are using the technology, not just to impart information about structures or windows or furnishings, but to go to the heart of the gospel and explain the reason for the building. ‘Why do we need forgiveness?’ What a great question.

May the Lord awaken curiosity in those who wander through this ancient building, leading them to enter through the portal of the QR code and be drawn into faith in Jesus.

Soaking Together

 

Daily deluges have kept the soil in the garden heavy, wet and cloying. The plants might be longing for the heat of a spring sun, but planted in the rich soil of the garden, they are not thirsty.

But in the individual plastic seed trays, the bedding plants I bought from the shop languish. There the earth is dry as dust, despite the tray sitting out under the same grey skies and receiving the same dose of rain.

Worshiping at church, voices joining in love and praise of our Saviour, waters my spirit and restores my soul. It is like resting in a rich garden. As our hearts converge and our minds agree in worship, we are like the plants in the soil, whose roots go deep.

I know I can be a believer whether or not I go to church, but if I stayed home, I think I might grow like those bedding plants, separated and hemmed in by plastic sides and bases, limited and isolated from being able to stretch my faith deeper, refreshing myself in the shared aquifer of love for God.

May the rain of heaven’s love fall gently on us all today, restoring us and enabling us each to blossom with the gifts God has given us.

Manna from Heaven

 

The cock pheasant and his harem visit daily. I noticed one of the hens balancing on the branch next to the peanut feeder. I’m not sure if she had eaten any of the nuts, but she was pretty big to be balanced on such a thin branch for so long.

Then he strutted into view and hopped up onto the pile of grass cuttings from last season. They’ve obviously found plenty of new life in that pile as a few of them have been feasting there the last few days – since the sun reappeared in our overly-grey skies.

The gorgeous male pheasant cast an ‘eagle-eye’ round the surrounding field. Yesterday I watched as he chased off a rival interloper. This morning peace reigned and no challenges appeared.

The hen feasted on peanuts, a rich treat perhaps. But perhaps just as rich, or even tastier, was what the cock found amongst the old grass cuttings.

May I be aware of all the sources of spiritual food which come my way this day, whether from the precious Scriptures or from the daily routines of my life. Through it all, God is speaking life to me.

Could you not sit with me?

 

The warmth of the conservatory drew me in for my morning quiet routine. As I focused on the devotional, I gradually become aware of the gentle purring of the cat, stretched in the sun on the chair opposite me. Indy isn’t a cat who craves petting and cuddles, but she enjoys company, as her contented purrs demonstrated.

Companionship needn’t be noisy chatter. There’s an interactive contentment when sitting with others you love, or respect and appreciate, which needs no verbal exchange. All it needs is time.

I’m aware that lately, I’ve curtailed that sort of loving lingering with the Lord. There seems to be so much to do all the time, and for some reason it takes me longer to do it all than it used to. But when Don remarked the other day how much he enjoyed my company, even when we aren’t speaking, I recognised how much I’m missing time spent just sitting with the Lord, too. Prayer is an attitude of the heart as well as an outpouring of the lips.

This morning, as the world convulses in violence and pain, I am thinking of Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, asking his friends to sit with him for an hour. To stay awake, and just keep him company.

I don’t know how to pray for this tortured world, but I can sit with the Lord of all as he prays.

So this morning, I surrender again to Jesus, knowing that I need his help to make some adjustments to my schedule, so that I have the right alignment of my priorities.

I don’t want to continue as Martha. I’d rather be Mary.

 

The Not Yet

 

Dawn came, still and soft, revealing a bright sun in a clear sky. Ah. Spring.

As the morning has unfolded, a breeze started lightly, teasing the daffodils into delightful dances. I see the movement but I don’t see the cause of it.

We’re in Holy Spirit season. Forty-five years ago the wind of the Spirit blew into my life, clearing my cache of sin and reviving me with a deep infilling of joy, love, faith and assurance of my identity in Christ. I hope and pray that others can see I am dancing with God.

He changed my life. On this day which marks my physical entry into the world, I am also remembering with gratitude and joy my spiritual entry into the fullness of the kingdom of God, both the now and the not-yet.

Enjoy this glorious day!

In with a Mouse

 

A gorgeous spring afternoon drew me out to do some weeding. Cows plodded round the field nearby, when one started making a noise I’d not heard them make before. Sort of a growl. I imagine the farmer could interpret that sound.

Inside again, I left the back door open as I sewed doll clothes for two grandchildren’s birthdays. Suddenly I heard the cat make a noise. Though our elderly cat is usually inside sleeping, I knew instantly what that meow meant. Yes, there she was, proudly showing me the mouse she had just killed and brought inside. Yuk.

It made me think once again of the way our heavenly Father hears all of our cries and groans, and understands each one perfectly. Scripture says that when we don’t know what to pray, the Spirit intercedes for us in groans we don’t understand: but the Father does.

Many times, I don’t know what to pray. How grateful I am that the Spirit is ready to move in and pray what’s so deeply embedded in my heart and soul.

My prayers are powerful and effective. Maybe especially when I am groaning in the Spirit.

 

Harmonies

 

Familiarity breeds contempt. This old adage apparently springs from St Augustine, 5^th century. I’d just like to dispute its assertion.

At least in relation to music. Playing cello in yesterday’s music group at church, I was delighted that two of the three worship songs were very familiar to me. Modern music comes without a written bass line, leaving the lower register instruments to ad lib. Having grown up playing in orchestras and quartets, where one was always playing harmonies and counterpoints written by talented composers, I find it extremely challenging to ‘go off-piste’ and make anything up.

Yesterday, though, with two of those songs, I felt free enough to ‘hear’ my inner harmonies a few times and do something slightly different from playing the written melody. Familiarity set me free.

The preacher encouraged us to really open our inner spiritual ears to hear the voice of Jesus. I suppose it is straightforward enough to know the ten commandments and endeavour to live by them, but in the vagaries and nuances of life, the whispers of Jesus guiding us in all we say and do can so enrich our lives and the lives of others. We are loved by the God of creation, who delights in diversity which is always harmonious in its beauty and richness.

May my spiritual ears be attentive today, and my will be willing to obey whatever I hear the Master whisper. It’s as we live the harmonies God gives us that we make the most beautiful music to bring joy to the throne of heaven and the ear of our Lord.

The Empty Cross says it all

 

The empty cross tells the truth. Love conquers all.

Today, we have the privilege of celebrating young love with newly-weds. One of the most beautiful things in the world and a joy to be included. May this young couple, and all the others uniting in marriage today, be blessed by our Lord Jesus with patience and kindness, wisdom and understanding, joy and compassion and love. And when the going is tough, may they know the Source of unlimited, unconditional, everlasting love, a love that doesn’t give up, doesn’t let go, never dies.

In a world of violence and strife, I celebrate the power of love, declaring that love has the last word.

 

On the Journey

 

Shimmering lights flash on the periphery of my vision as I park the car at Tesco. Such visual disturbances have been part of life since I tumbled down steps at 17 years old, whamming the concrete near the left temple of my forehead and sustaining a severe concussion. (Ever since then, I always hold the rail when descending stairs.) The debilitating headaches which used to accompany such light-shows have largely gone. Whew. I am very grateful for that mercy.

When the lights shimmer, I am very aware of the distortions I see as the margins of my perception flicker and flash. If I am trying to read, I have to focus on one word at a time as the rest disappears in a light-show dance.

How easy it is to become mesmerised or distracted by our own viewpoints, determined by our own experiences and perceptions, and fail to appreciate the different and individual experiences through which others are going or have gone. How tragic when misperceptions break relationships.

Lord, today and every day may I be blessed with Holy Spirit specs, so that I see only that which is true. May I never believe what is distorted by mine or others’ limited understanding. As I heard a speaker say years ago, I pray now: may I have a heart that is never affronted by someone else’s action or inaction. Instead, fill my heart, spirit and mind with your generous grace. May I have expectations only in you, my perfect Lord Jesus. You who prayed as the nails tore your flesh and shattered your bones: Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing.

None of us really knows what we are doing. We are all just doing our best, walking each other home.

(Those who know me will recognise in this reflection the aphorisms I’ve gleaned from my dear Mom, my dear daughter, a dear friend, and a speaker I heard only once. I’m grateful to them all for their wisdom. You never know when a sentence you utter might take root and grow to influence someone else’s life. Let those sentences be full of grace, love and mercy.)

God bless us all on the journey.

Hope Springs

 

Beyond the bevy of birds busily pecking at the seeds and nuts and fat balls, a cow stands still and silent in the dripping rain. The nursery of calves lounge on the wet grass. Outside the kitchen window, blue tits and great tits jostle for nesting spots in the multi-story birdhouse. It is badly in need of a refurb, but they don’t seem to notice the leaky roof or the broken perches. Too late now for me to get out there and spruce it up. I’ll leave them in peace to lay eggs and raise chicks.

Spring. Hope and promise.

Easter. Hope and promise assured. Aren’t the seasons fabulous?

Have a great day, knowing that in Jesus all will be well, all manner of things will be well. We have a hope that won’t disappoint.