Garbled reception

 

A good friend sent me an excerpt of a writing by an American priest involved with a contemplative group. It was about lament. I found his words so inspiring, filling me with an urge to look up the Psalms he names. Additionally, I was so encouraged that my friend heard me, sensed my despair, in a very brief exchange after church yesterday. She really heard me, and reached out. Thank you, Alison.

I’ve just done the day’s Lectio, and as I thought about Jesus being the Way, into my brain skipped the song from Judy Garland’s Wizard of Oz: Follow the yellow brick road. (Sorry, for those of you who will now hear this on repeat all day.)

Sitting in my prayer window, reflecting, I noticed the antenna on the radio was not fully extended. I pulled it out. Maybe next time we listen, we will get clearer reception.

This morning I ask God to help me extend my inner spiritual antenna fully. I am picking up so much discouraging static as I read the news and comments. It can garble and overwhelm the message of Jesus. In the email from my friend’s American contemplative group, I read about Psalm 42, and other psalms of lamentation that speak to God’s people during tough times. ‘As a dear longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God.’

I am going to try to discipline myself so that for every minute I spend reading political comments, I will spend an equal amount of time reading God’s word.

Even in the tough times, maybe especially then, God calls us to walk in the Way: ‘I am the Way, Jesus said.’ To follow the yellow brick road he has laid out for us. My metaphors may be garbled but I pray that as I extend my spiritual antenna today, God’s Word will drown out the despair of the world.

May you, too, be filled with hope and the peace that passes all understanding.

Slash and Burn

 

Recently, a couple of men who work for the local landowner came along our road with chainsaws and matches. They chopped away at the thick gorse and broom bushes which lined the roads. They dragged the branches and trunks into the field and set them on fire. Sometimes they started the fires on the road verges themselves, leaving nothing but scorched roots.

The aim, and the result, of the slash and burn work was to give clear visibility along the narrow road, perhaps averting collisions in future. (Though I’ve not witnessed any collisions due to thick bushes along this stretch of road, we now need not creep out of our driveway with quite so much caution.)

I appreciate the greater visibility, but as I surveyed the scarred landscape yesterday, I remembered the beautiful filigree of millions of spiders’ webs picked out in dew or frost over those cold winter days. And I thought of the devastating impact on so many tiny creatures who will have died in the bonfires, as well as birds who can no longer find shelter and protection in a leafy landscape now gone.

Indiscriminate actions which destroy the habitats of innocents hit the headlines with increasing frequency. Policies of slash and burn destroy the good with the bad, leaving no winners and nothing but a wasted wilderness in lives and services. Society is the poorer for it, in more ways than pure economics.

I focus my eyes this morning on a promise of God from Psalm 103. ‘The LORD gives righteousness and justice to all who are treated unfairly.’

May your justice roll on like a never-ending river, Lord God. Help me to do your will, to speak your words, to love as you call me to love, today and every day, preparing the way of the Lord.

 

 

 

I pledge allegiance

 

It’s a grand old flag, it’s a high-flying flag, and forever in peace may she wave.

Stormy winds can wear out even the toughest piece of cloth, shredding and tearing it, wrapping its sun-faded design round a shaky pole until the flag no longer resembles itself. I grew up pledging allegiance to the flag of a country which is fast fading, tearing and shredding into an unrecognisable rag, a country where the rule of law is being dismantled in front of our eyes.

I have pledged my allegiance to the cross, symbol of the love of the Almighty God whose grace and mercy have saved me. The cross is also a symbol of the justice of God, who couldn’t turn a blind eye to sin but instead came himself in the person of Jesus Christ to pay the price of that sin, to ensure that justice was done.

The flag and the cross are symbols only, though. If my heart has not been circumcised and changed forever by my love for God, wearing a trinket round my neck is meaningless.

We live in turbulent times, where our actions reveal our hearts’ attitudes. If we carry the love of Christ in our hearts, we will declare that through our compassion and kindness, our mercy and grace, our love for all humanity because Jesus died for the sins of the whole world. Every human being is made in the image of God. Let’s never forget that.

Lord, help us to respect one another, to love one another, to co-operate with and work alongside one another of every race and creed and identity. May we reveal our allegiance to you in the attitudes of our hearts, our minds, our words and our actions.

We declare the power of love, and the lordship of Jesus Christ. This is His world, which he has redeemed.

Catching the Waves

 

The swell starts far from the shore. The waters gather and begin to move as one.

We stood in the warm water, in the even warmer air of a Brisbane December, poised with the body boards we borrowed from Felicity and Gregor. I wasn’t very good at it. Both times I flopped onto my tummy on the board, I was soon slammed hard into the sand. I should have learned how to do this when I was young…

I grew up near Surf City, USA. It was a common sight to see beat-up old VW buses chugging towards the beaches, surfboards tied higgledy-piggledy on the roof. Or poking out a passenger window. But not a gifted or even able swimmer, I was never tempted to give it a try.

Today I am thinking about the way the waters gather far out from the shore, responding to tides and currents that drive them. They begin to swell and move ‘together’ moving in synch, long before they reach or even ‘see’ the shoreline: yet they respond and go in the right direction.

Finally, there is such a volume of water that they form into the impressive rollers the surfers anticipate. Those who are experienced seem to be able to sense the timing, to know when to move from a prone position into a kneeling position, when to rise onto feet, find balance and take the exhilarating ride into the shore. Equally, the experienced surfers know when to drop off the board and swim back out to sea, avoiding that unpleasant slam into the sand which I experienced.

The Spirit is moving over the waters of our faith, gathering us so that together our faith in the powerful move of God encourages us off our tummies and onto our knees, off our knees and freely, joyfully riding the wave of God.

Lord, help me today to move in time with your rhythm, waiting and watching, kneeling and standing, riding in joyful abandon of faith and trust in you. You are the wave-maker, the surf-gatherer, the creator of land and seas and skies: may I be alert, attentive and ready today, tonight, constantly.

Praise you, Lord, for the swelling move of your Spirit across the globe today, among the young, among the old, among the faithful and among the faithless, among swimmers and non-swimmers alike. May we greet each new wave with joy and daring, trusting you to protect us from submerged rocks and hungry sharks. Amen.

Disturb the nests - shake the tree

 

How did the trunk of the ivy grow so thick? This pernicious plant – forgive me if you like ivy – has crept and crawled its way across the dry stane dyke (dry stone wall) at the front of the garden, insinuating itself between the heavy stones, stretching its hairy roots into any spot of dirt where it could gain purchase. It has sidled up the cherry trees, choking the life out of them. So I have spent a few hours starting to get to grips with it all, a little fearful of disturbing a nesting bird. None so far.

It's going to take more than a pair of secateurs to cut the thick branches and trunks, and more oomph than I have got to dig out the serpentine strings of roots heading down the drive. I need help.

Jesus says to watch out for false prophets, wolves disguised as sheep. He warns to watch and pray that we don’t fall into temptation. He instructs us to be alert and watch the signs of the times, and be ready for his word, for his return.

Lord, where I have allowed fake news to take root in my brain and my spirit, forgive me and please pull it out. Lord, where I have buckled and collaborated with the enemy, tempted to aim low rather than aim at holiness, forgive me and please strengthen me to resist and defeat the enemy in Jesus’ Name. Where I have fallen asleep and am missing what you are doing right now, right here and right in my life, wake me up and fill me with your Holy Spirit to join in with you, rebuking all things that are not from you.

I may need to disturb a few nests…

The Last Word

 

Since when is 6 years old, considered old? We have three grandchildren turning 6 in the next few weeks, and they are all lovely, lively and enthusiastic: certainly not old. (Though I do find myself wondering how they can be 6 already!?)

Yet, I gather that our 6-year-old laptops are geriatric, possibly unable to move on to Windows 11.

The speed of change is breath-taking in the global world as well. Not six years, but two months has redrawn the political landscape.

God spoke to Malachi, declaring that ‘I, the Lord, do not change.’ Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.

What a relief to have a rock of ages on which to anchor our lives, assured that though storms rage and roar, eroding what once was and creating what has never been, we can cling on to the One who never changes and, even if our own grasp is not enough, He never lets go. He holds us by our right hand. He never leaves nor forsakes us.

There is a spiritual awakening stirring hearts and souls and minds during these turbulent times. Praise the Lord that what was meant for harm, will be turned to good by him who has – and who IS - the last word.

 

Spiritual Strength

 

Bending this way and that, the bare branches of deciduous trees not yet dressed in their spring finery are set in sharp, pleasing relief to the expanse of clear blue sky. Buds are forming; soon blossom will burst out, and these bare branches will be hidden by leafy clothing.

I love the luxurious grace of trees in all their spring and summer finery, and yet that finery obscures the stark beauty of supporting skeletal frameworks which give the trees their shape.

Whether I am in blossom, in leaf, or bare in a wilderness winter, may my spiritual skeleton be that which shapes me today. May others look at me but see the grace and mercy of Jesus, who is my rock and my redeemer. May my words drip with the honey of salvation, arousing a deep spiritual longing in those I encounter today, leading them to Jesus.

May others, who find themselves in a ‘dry and weary land where there is no water’, discover that God’s love is better than life, and that those who love Jesus will praise and rejoice in God forever, ‘while the mouths of liars will be silenced’. (Psalm 63)

He is the Lord, and He reigns on high, holding this beautiful world in his hands. His was the first Word, and it will be the last. Hallelujah. Our God reigns.

To Be or To Do

 

Monday morning: I busily jot down the many tasks on my To Do list, then slip into the prayer window to start with the most important.

Within minutes, I sense a challenge: rather than prioritising a To Do list, I should prioritise a To Be list. Specifically, I sensed the two attributes I should work on today are gentleness and kindness.

‘Martha, Martha,’ Jesus gently admonished the busy sister. Speaking up on her meditative sister’s behalf, he continued, ‘Mary has chosen the better way.’

Must it be just one way or the other?

This morning’s Lectio focused on St Patrick, and specifically the way that he prayed constantly even as a slave, out on the hills with his captor’s sheep. He wasn’t cloistered or prone, but was praying while he worked.

May a hum of prayer undergird all my work today, lifting and keeping me near Jesus all day. May my To Do list be accomplished while I focus on my To Be list today, with the help of the Holy Spirit!

It is well

 

Through it all, my eyes are on You. It is well, with me.

The sun is streaming in through the window. There’s plenty going on which is not great, but God will sustain those who put their trust in him.

I sat in that sunshine and waited on the Lord, and he renews my strength. I have a situation to handle for my mother today which I find a challenge, but I trust in the Lord to guide my words, my thoughts, and my choices.

As much as I don’t really like to admit this, it is good to know my limitations because then, in humility and need, I fling myself on the Lord to sustain me, guide me, and keep me strong.

That is his promise, and he will do it.

Through it all, my eyes are on You, and it is well with me.

Of shells and grasshoppers

 

A seashell. Just the ordinary kind found on beaches the world over, dirty white and scalloped.

Discarded. No longer needed by the soft life that once dwelt within. A life now gone, pounded out by the storms of life, the tossing of the waves, snatched by the jaws of predators.

I see the men of power parading on the world’s stage, and I see shells, empty shells. Their experiences and choices have hardened them into the brittle and bitter shells we see. They have allowed their empathy and humanity to be pounded out of them, snatched away by the enemy.

‘God sits above the circle of the earth. The people below seem like grasshoppers to him! He judges the great people of the world and brings them all to nothing. They hardly get started, barely taking root, when he blows on them and they wither. The wind carries them off like chaff.’

I am so grateful for the pertinence of the ancient words of Isaiah 40. May my prayers be born in the love of God for his creation, full of compassion and kindness, shimmering with the joy of hope in the faithful God who never changes, who is full of justice and mercy, full of grace.

May I never allow the world to reduce me to a hardened shell. May my fragile human love be strengthened by the powerful, tough love of God. May I always trust in the Lord Jesus Christ, my Saviour and the King of Creation.

Pariah state

 

‘Always in my mind is a picture of Jerusalem’s walls in ruins.’ God’s words to Isaiah (49:16) resonate with the sorrow in my heart and mind as I watch with horror what is happening to my country.

The consolation – the only consolation – is in the previous verses, when God refutes the claims of the Israelites that He has forgotten them by claiming that even if a mother could forget her own child, He would never forget His people.

I don’t mean to conflate a nation with the people of God, but I am heartbroken to see the nation that was for a couple of centuries a beacon of light and hope to the world flip into another pariah state.

Lord, have mercy. So many are suffering because of this administration, nationally and globally. Have mercy and intervene. Show your power and love, O Lord. Hear my prayer.

Confident expectation of good

 

It’s beginning to feel a lot like … spring!

It’s in the light. It’s in the birds, checking out the nesting boxes. It’s in the crocus blooms.

Spring is surely synonymous with hope. High hopes for the productivity of the garden (usually dashed). High hopes for a warm summer (ditto).

The definition of hope in God, though, is a confident expectation that God will turn up and do something good.

In this season of global political distress, I want to declare my hope in the God who created this world and continues to hold it lovingly in his hands. Hands that were pierced for our sins.

Lent is the season for remembering the truly awesome love of God.

My hope is in God, and God alone.

Enjoy the beauty of this day, knowing that God has not abandoned us.

Peace

 

Yesterday’s strong winds have blown themselves out. This morning dawns silent.

I look out to admire the last of the cheery snowdrops in the flower beds, but instead my eye lingers on the greens of the grass. We don’t have special grass. Probably most of it is moss or weeds. But this morning, the variation in shades of green is what catches my eye. Nuances and subtleties. Taken together, one might think it is a solid colour, but a closer look reveals varieties. It’s lovely.

Now a cock pheasant strolls past in all his glorious plumage, headed for the bird table and the seed he will find on the ground, spilled by his smaller friends. The richness of his appearance excites my appreciation, but the carpet of green draws my attention.

As the political world continues to fracture into polarised camps, we tend to see the ‘others’ as one solid shade (perhaps of black). Lord, open our eyes, whichever side of the divide we occupy. Open our eyes to see the differences; open our ears to hear the stories; open our mouths to express our opinions with kindness and respect. Bring us back from the brutality of hatred and anger.

We live in stormy times, but they, too, will blow themselves out. As my dad always used to say in times of challenge, ‘This, too, shall pass.’

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me, God. So grateful for the everlasting life partner who never leaves nor forsakes us.

Mud on the Road

 

Mud on the road.

More mud than usual as farmers begin their spring work. It’s thick. It’s ‘clarted’. It’s slippery.

Elected leaders stride out in their hubris on muddy roads. Some may think they are standing, walking on the Rock, walking forward in His Name. Some may not care as long as the road leads to power and wealth.

Lord, humble our leaders today. Humble those who dream of glory, of golden statues and absolute power. Humble those who dream of control, of digital mastery. Humble the bullies who have aligned themselves with the enemy of all that is good.

Whether they turn to the right or to the left, may their ears hear a voice behind them, saying ‘This is the way: walk in it.’

Lord, you have the whole world in your hands. Please act decisively today on behalf of the bullied, the dispossessed, the marginalised and the lost.

‘All thrones and dominions, all powers and positions, His Name stands above them all.’

The Name of Jesus stands above the names of our times: Trump, Musk, Putin, et al.

And Lord, help us not to forget that we, too, walk on muddy roads. May we keep our eyes on you and our ears open to your whisper, ‘This is the way: walk in it.’