Distractions

 

‘Listen,’ I sensed Him saying as I sat for a few minutes in silence. ‘What do you hear?’

The refrigerator humming its constant monotone. And?

You don’t usually even notice it, I sensed Him going on. You get on with your day without being distracted by that background, unimportant constant.

True.

I can struggle to define my priorities for the day. All around me stands a house that could use a clean and a tidy-up, even some licks of paint, and a garden crying out for weeding, tidying, pruning, planting… Then there is the daily duo lingo … this blog … someone coming for dinner … even, today, someone coming for coffee … Mom’s affairs …

And then there’s the news. The political scene globally.

Refrigerator hums. Distractions.

I have four writing projects underway, all at different stages of development. That’s where my heart is, and yet I can be so easily drawn away from them. Easily distracted, as most of my children’s school reports used to read.

Today I pray for the Holy Spirit’s gift of self-discipline. I give this beautiful day to the Lord, and ask that he would help me to order it as he would.

Still sparking

 

Don turned the key in the ignition. Nothing.

Dead battery.

Out came the charger, and after a few hours charging, the car revved into life. He then drove it into Aberdeen to purchase a new battery, and the drive itself was enough to recharge the old one. The car hadn’t been driven for a few days, and with an old battery, that was enough to steal its spark.

It’s such an obvious metaphor for the spiritual life. I find that when I am active in faith-related activities, my spirit is full and firing, and I bubble with excitement over who the Lord is and what he is doing. When I don’t take the time to plug myself into the Lord, both through individual time with him and also sharing study and time with others, I soon find my spiritual battery losing its spark.

It doesn’t require serious study or silent contemplation to recharge my spiritual battery. Tomorrow night we are hosting a young intern for dinner between his commitments with the youth work, and I know that spending time with another believer over a meal time offers just such a recharge to faith.

I want to finish my race well, (wherever that finish line is) without letting anything steal my spark.

Blush of new life

 

We awoke to overcast skies and a gentle rain. The field which encircles our house like a skirt has lain ploughed and brown for the last few weeks. This morning, after the rains, a blush of green has spread over the land. New shoots have sprouted. New life.

Full of promise. Beautiful.

Prayers can fall like gentle rain on the arid and parched situations in life. No prayer cried out to our loving God is ever forgotten, ignored or dismissed. It may seem a long time before those green shoots sprout, but sprout they will, though the plants which spring up may not be exactly those we had imagined and asked for. But in the wisdom of God, they will be the best, the ones which will grow, mature, and bear fruit for the world.

Lord, keep me constant in prayer. May I pray in the assurance that you are listening, that you are wise and loving and that at just the right time, new growth will spring up in those situations which seem arid and dry.

All that glitters

 

A few days away in Aberfeldy, with most of the family. The fourteen of us headed off for a hike to see the waterfall at the Birks of Aberfeldy. It wasn’t that long a walk, but it did involve a steeper climb than Don and I usually do these days.

Eliott and Callan are into rocks and stones, noticing their shapes, their colours, and particularly the glints of minerals that convince them of their value. Before long, Eliott (8) picked up a heavy cube of stone. He could not be persuaded to put it down; he could not persuade anyone else to carry it for him, so with grit and determination he carried it all the way up, and all the way down, to take home later. He was sure of its value.

What am I carrying today which glitters like Fool’s Gold, distracting me and slowing me down in my spiritual quest to live for Jesus only? Like Eliott, I have trouble discerning values, and don’t always listen to other people’s advice.

Lord, on this beautiful spring morning, please help me to abandon the burdens which are not mine to bear. I want to run my race with joy, not with grumbling. Thank you for the cross, where I can lay my sins and burdens down. And thank you for you loving invitation to be yoked with you, so that those burdens which are mine to bear are lightened through the sharing of the load with you.

As the finishing line comes ever nearer, I want to be running my best race for Jesus, radiating his love and grace, mercy and forgiveness, into the dark chaos of the world today.

 

 

Beyond the Cross

 

For the joy set before him, he endured the cross.

Jesus saw the light of God through the cross. He knew where he was going, after he had endured the cross.

I am back from a few days away with the family, wonderful days making memories and filled with laughter and joy. I’ve landed with a thud. My e-mail in box has half a dozen messages from Mom’s insurance provider. Things I need to figure out; a phone call I will need to make. There is also something I need to do by phone later today for her bank. Another situation I have to address concerning her accommodation. And it makes me feel weary, burdened and heavy-laden.

Over these last years, this is the cross I have been called to bear. I am grateful that my love for Mom is strong enough that I can bear it, with Jesus’ help. Come to me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will refresh you, he says.

We are all bearing a cross. The joy lies in the conviction that beyond the cross lies peace, joy, freedom, love, life itself. Salvation.

I am so grateful for Jesus enduring the cross.

Dry and Weary World

 

The sun shone with springlike brightness, drawing both Don and me out into the vegetable patch where we continued to dig and weed and feed, preparing the soil for hopefully a productive planting.

Inside, I have been washing some windows and generally tidying up a bit, preparing the house to welcome visitors on the weekend. I have been cooking and baking, planning and buying, for a few days away next week with most of the family. (Sadly, not all, as Emirates cancelled flights from Brisbane, because they transited through Dubai.)

The Maundy Thursday night story in Luke details that it was as Jesus was still speaking words of guidance to his disciples, that Judas and the arresting soldiers arrived to take him prisoner. Jesus knew they were coming, and up until the last minute, he prepared in prayer. Not in sad farewell admonitions to his friends, but in heartfelt prayer with his Father.

Lord, as my tendency is to slide into Martha-esque preparations for Easter celebrations and reunions, please pause my busyness and draw me into quiet, contemplative preparations of my spirit. You, Jesus, prayed until the final moment; may I trust that with you there is always enough time.

May I walk with you through the sadness and brokenness of Thursday night and Friday, and into the bright new dawn of resurrection life on Sunday morning. Show me how to pray without ceasing for the brokenness of this world in agony, knowing that at just the right moment, the dawn will break and Jesus, the Prince of Peace, will appear with healing in his wings.

My whole being yearns for Jesus, in this dry and weary land where there is no water.