Black holes

A programme last night on black holes challenged my intellect and amazed me. I am so inspired and impressed by the sheer breath-taking intelligence of scientists who search for truth in the natural world, through observation, theory, mathematical plotting, etc. I watch amazed, almost understanding and sometimes surprising myself as I pre-empt what is about to be revealed.

Thus as the narrator described how scientists discovered the black hole at the centre of our galaxy and have been observing a huge gas cloud which is gradually being eaten up by this hole, he said that nobody knows why black holes have such intense light at times nor what they really do. It seemed a possibility to me that the hole is almost a window onto a new universe perhaps, or galaxy, where matter from this universe is being birthed. 

He then cited that as a possibility, and equated black holes with quasars. I have never studied physics, and struggle to keep up, but just love this stuff. The sheer size of it all is mind-blowing and the intricate complexity, the way everything has a purpose and is serving other things, just points again to the certainty of an intelligent creator God. 

A powerful being who spoke the universe into being and breathes life into you and me. A God of love who creates for the sheer joy and pleasure of it, who loves without condition and encourages us each to grow as far as we are able – intellectually, spiritually, physically. 

Whatever one's feelings in the aftermath of the Scottish independence referendum, they have to be dwarfed by the beauty of life itself.

Life is such a gift, from such a Giver. I am so grateful.

Torn Handkerchiefs

The pale blue sky was filled with thin, ragged clouds which pulled apart like cotton wool. 

A perfect spring morning. No wind, the sun was out and shining brightly on a dewy landscape as Dusty and I rounded behind the woods. The birds trilled their joyful songs.

We walked. We prayed. And then we stopped, soaking in the beauty of the rough field before us. For between most thistles and thorns, weeds and saplings, stretched gossamer strands of webs spun by millions of spiders. Each web was picked out in droplets of dew and sparkled in the sunlight. 

A torn carpet of moisture mirroring the torn canopy in the sky above.

I smiled as I remembered a scene of moist tissue sprinkled across the lawn and raining down from the trees of our home when I was a teenager. Friends had ‘toilet-papered’ my house the night before – a fun way of marking friendship in those long-ago days of innocence – but my Dad had not been impressed. He ill-advisedly took the hose to the strands of toilet paper which laced through the trees and blew gently in the breeze, bringing down millions of tight balls of wet tissue onto the grass which I then spent the next few weeks raking up every day. 

Fun memories of innocence, of adolescence, and even of my dad’s temper.

I thought of torn handkerchiefs, and remembered the tree outside of a tomb in Cyprus which was adorned with a myriad of torn hankies, each representing a heartfelt prayer offered to God at this holy man’s memorial site. 

A myriad of spiders’ webs, picked out in glistening dewy drops, offering a paean of praise to the loving Creator God.

What better way to start the day?

Sensory Perception

A small posy of sweet peas perfumes the air beside me. There is something near divine about the fragrance of sweet peas, and roses. And lilies: I have been blessed over the weekend by people I love bringing me bouquets of lilies. God is good, and the fragrance of those lilies reminds me of the love of family and friends.

Walking Dusty this morning, I saw a common old garden pigeon lift off the field and fly to the top of a tree. I thought how magnificent an achievement that is! To be able to lift your body by the power of your wings and fly so high – it makes it seem much more splendid than a common old garden pigeon. 

God’s creation is amazing!

We continued along the road, where the field is raised above the road and obscured by the vegetation. I turned back to wait for Dusty and became aware of a noise. The noise of cows grazing peacefully through the field above, out of sight yet revealed because I could hear them. Praise God for my hearing!

Further along, my nostrils were assailed by the smell of death. I doubt if I smelled that when I grew up in a big city, thankfully, but here in the country it’s a smell I recognize. Perhaps it was a deer in the undergrowth, or a rabbit or something else. It’s not a nice smell. Everything in creation is not thriving; the fall has spoiled what God had planned.

These perceptions reminded me of how dormant our spiritual senses have become. I know of some people whose lives are so entwined with the Lord's that they can feel a coldness in a room where evil may be lurking; some who can see light surrounding someone who is being blessed by God in a particular way; some who can hear clearly when God guides. 

These people are not special. God is special, and his desire is that we all live open and receptive lives, alert and responsive to the very real spiritual world which surrounds us.

My prayer today, for you and for me, is that our spiritual senses will be stimulated and satisfied so that we can better serve our loving Creator God.