Signature of Love

 

I’ve been waiting for the swallows to return. Thinking they’re a bit late this year, though I’m not sure if that’s true.

Then this morning, a couple of birds swooped swiftly towards the upstairs bathroom window. There is a swallow’s nest rebuilt annually in the eaves of the apex of the roof above that window. (There guano begins piling up on the outside window ledge at this time of year…)

Waiting eagerly for something good.

Jesus encourages us to keep alert. To keep our gaze fixed on him. To keep hope alive. Hope, I have heard said, is the confident expectation that God is going to turn up and do something good – whether small or great.

Open my eyes today, Lord, and keep me on tiptoe watching for where you are leaving your signature of love in my life today. Help me to reciprocate, leaving a signature of my love for you in my actions, thoughts and words today. Amen.

Helmet fitted

 

A young adolescent came off a zip wire in the park, slamming his head into something hard - a tree? The ground? He sustained a severe concussion and a brain bleed and is fighting to regain some of his mobility. Yesterday an older adolescent, competing in a tense basketball game, somehow whammed his head into the brick wall the other side of one of the baskets, resulting in severe concussion as well.

A cyclist went past my window just now, his helmet securely buckled onto his head.

News headlines flood our phones moment by moment, and most of them tell horrible stories: wars and rumours of wars, famines, natural disasters, self-absorbed political leaders running amok. Scrolling through the news feed is not to be done without forethought and preparation. The Bible is our source for such preparation.

Paul goes through the armour of God in his letter to the Ephesians, and I am so grateful that one of the pieces of armour he lists is the helmet of salvation. Thank you, Lord, that you understand the attacks on our minds through the pervasive attacks of the enemy, trying to undermine our faith, hamper our hope, and impair the love that Jesus calls us to spread.  Thank you that I can stand firm in the knowledge that Jesus has overcome the evil one.

Whatever I read today, Lord, with the armour firmly fitted on me, especially that belt of truth and helmet of salvation, may I read it with the assurance and peace which only you can give, knowing that in you everything is put right.  

Full of Questions

 

Full of questions. Full of incredulity, shock, amazement: unable to reconcile ‘today’ with ‘yesterday’. How did we get here?

The two disciples trudged wearily away from the site of the cross, headed home, barely aware of the stranger who joined them on their journey. So absorbed were they in the sorrow and vicious brutality of the last few days, they were amazed that anyone could have missed what was going on.

Yet it was Jesus who joined them, the risen Lord, teasing their fears and griefs out of them as he opened the truth to them.

Lord, as we trudge today away from calvary, may our hearts burn inside us as we tune our inner ears to hear your voice. May we be as quick as the disciples were to share the good news: He is risen indeed!

Never mind the state of the world or the nation or our own family circumstances, his resurrection takes our vision beyond the pain and suffering to a new landscape of hope, beauty, peace and love, a harmonious place where we will one day live in joyful communion and relationship with God himself.

He is risen indeed. Hallelujah!

Digital Easter

 

A digital Easter card dropped into my in-box. With its fairytale-like quality, it drew me into its unfolding story. A delicate blue butterfly flitted with intent across the screen, dropping its magic dust and occasioning a sequence of events. Finally, the picture emerged: an Easter garden, complete with three empty crosses and a stone tomb. As the door of the tomb rolled away and glorious rays of light streamed from its empty interior, the flowers which had been seeded by the butterfly’s flight opened into a riot of colour and beauty.

Below that empty central cross, drops of precious blood fell onto the rocky, dry soil beneath. That was the story of Good Friday. But resurrection life was sown in the hard hearts of mankind, renewed life, restored and refreshed life in every penitent heart of everyone who looks at the cross of Christ and somehow, wordlessly, understands. Gets it.

May the blood of Jesus shed for me soften those hard stones in my heart, in my mind, in my spirit, and cause wildly colourful, fragrant flowers to blossom and bloom in my every action, every thought and every word today. Out of sadness and sorrow may joy and hope spring.

I surrender. I repent. I forgive. More of you, Jesus, until the cold darkness of the tomb of my heart radiates the warmth of your love and life into my little corner of the world today.

Fifty Followers

 

Fifty followers of Jesus filed behind the wooden cross, wending our way through the streets of Banchory early this morning. Octogenarians and children as young as 6 or 7, and all ages in between, stepped out in somber mood.

At appropriate places we paused, hearing the familiar story of the passion and death of Jesus Christ. This afforded a moment to invite two new volunteers to take up the cross and lead the way.

A granddad and his grandson stepped forward. Two teenage boys took their turn. Two silver-haired women, followed by two adolescent girls also shouldered the burden and led the way.

‘Take up your cross and follow me,’ Jesus told his disciples. We each have our own cross to carry, and sometimes that can be so heavy. I know this last week, there was a moment when I heard myself say, ‘It’s just too much.’

But Jesus never gives us more than we can bear, and his promise is that he is always with us. I noticed that when Don took the top of the cross and I took the bottom, he was bearing most of the burden. The truth is that when I take up my cross, Jesus shoulders the weight of the crossbeam, and I just need to stay in step. It’s when I get out of step – walk too fast or drop back hesitantly – or veer off at a tangent, that the cross becomes awkward, heavy and ‘just too much’.  

Yoked to Jesus (another invitation he gives us), this morning I thought of how uneven a yoke that is, as he bears the lion’s share of the weight.

Lord Jesus, with fresh resolve and renewed strength, may I take up the cross which is mine to carry. May I be ever alert to your leading, and may I be always willing to follow whatever path you decide to take.

Thank you that you did not shirk the cross. Thank you that you resisted the temptation to veer off and do things in a less painful way. Thank you that it was not the nails, but your love, that pinned you to that awful tree of Calvary. Thank you.

More than I can afford

 

I was visiting my parents in Long Beach, maybe twenty years ago now. I wanted to take them out to dinner. As we approached a special restaurant along the coast in Laguna Beach, I told my dad I wanted to pay for this.

‘You can’t afford it,’ he replied with a smile. ‘I’m getting it.’

I can’t really describe how I felt. Hurt. A little angry. Sad, because of course it was true. I couldn’t afford it. (Why such negative feelings, when I know my dad was picking up the tab in love, with no judgment or condemnation on me?)

‘It is finished,’ Jesus breathed out as he paid the huge debt of sin humanity had run up. He wasn’t picking up the tab for a nice steak and glass of wine; he was paying the price for the injustices, the cruelties, our sharp words and unkind actions.

Today I am overwhelmed with sorrow that I can’t pay my own bill for the sin I have perpetrated and continue to commit. But the price is way beyond me.

‘You can’t afford it,’ Jesus says to me, to you, with love in his eyes. ‘I’ve got it.’

And he breathed his last. ‘It is finished.’ The price is paid. It’s settled: he has set us free from the clutches of the evil debt-collector.

More than the sense of sorrow is the huge sense of gratitude and relief and love which floods me as I look on his broken body on that cross of pain.

Thank you, Jesus. I worship you, in awe and love and gratitude. Thank you.

 

Be strong

 

Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

Such words of encouragement to Joshua as he took on the mantle of leadership from Moses.

This morning, the Lord impressed on my mind an image of myself behind bars. Behind me was the eye of God.

I, like many others, have been struggling with the situation in my home country. I’ve been surprised at the depth of my grief, the frequency of my tears, the shock of my outrage. I’ve never experienced such a maelstrom of emotions – helpless anger, shame, incredulity, confusion, fear, anxiety. Lord, bring your peace into that cauldron of toxicity. Calm the storm, I pray.

I sense that the Lord is showing me that, due to many factors, I’ve lived all my life assuming the truth of an idolised version of the US which put it pretty close to the Kingdom of God. Raised by very patriotic US Marines, who were great parents who I loved dearly, it’s hard to watch the façade drop away from so many facets of a nation which we believed always wore the ‘white hat’. It’s shocking to watch their imagined reality, which I inherited, die, as the administration embraces greed, selfishness, injustice, ignorance and cruelty: ugliness of every kind.

As hard as I’m finding this, Lord, I offer to you the hope that the nation’s motto, ‘In God we trust’, might finally become true as I – as we – learn that it is only in you that our trust is secure.

May I pray with greater insight, fervor and longing: ‘Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done.’

Jesus came to set the captives free – even those captivated by a mistaken dream. Humbly, I come to you, Jesus. Set me free today, I pray.

Secure in tradition

 

I am preparing for my conversational French hour this afternoon, so have been brushing up on all words Easter-related. We are going to share our family traditions, en francais, of course.

That has taken me down a very pleasant memory lane, one strewn with the odd Easter bunny (very odd…), Easter bonnets, dresses, hot cross buns and chocolate egg hunts. I’m also reflecting on the rhythm of Holy Week, the rhythm which kept us in step with the Lord Jesus’ walk to the cross and then the joy of resurrection day.

Here in Banchory, there is also a rhythm to Holy Week, starting with a Wednesday morning service remembering Jesus’ words from the cross, then a Maundy Thursday late afternoon service followed by picnic supper arranged by the young people, a 7 am Good Friday walk through Banchory with the cross, again reflecting on Jesus’ last words. Easter morning starts at 9 by the River Dee, with a service again led by the young people, and finally the traditional joyful gathering in church at 10.30. He is risen indeed!

Traditions are important, instilling in children a pattern by which to comprehend life. As adults, it is so good to settle into the familiar, with the touches of new life brought by a younger generation: all drawing our eyes to the love and life and death and resurrection of our Saviour.

Jesus himself loved tradition. There is something in the repetitive cycle of remembering God’s gracious goodness to us which gives us security, faith and hope in the ever-changing global and local landscapes.

He is risen. He is risen indeed!