Hosanna!

Sitting with my back to the window, I heard a kerfuffle and turned. Two cock pheasants, resplendent in their glorious colourful feathery attire, faced off against one another. Tiny heads bobbed and poked aggressively. Clawed feet stepped to the side, forward and back, as they challenged each other for territory, for power, for position. Wings outstretched, fluttered aggressively, with agitation. It was an Attenborough moment. I could imagine his velvet tones describing this ritual in the natural world and explaining what was really going on.

Nations posture and challenge one another. Politicians and leaders strut and proclaim, seeking to gain, or hold on to, power. We watch and listen, struggling to determine what is truth, what is fake, what is safe, what is reckless. We yearn for someone to explain what is really going on.

Hosanna to the Son of David. Hosanna to the King of Kings. Glory in the highest heavens, for Jesus the Messiah reigns.

How often that old chorus comes to mind and I sing out some of the names of our Saviour. Hosanna. Save, help. If ever the world needed the Saviour, it is now. How much clearer can it be, that we mess up? That we don’t know what to do to fix the messes we make? That we are helpless without God?

Hosanna to the King of Kings. Jesus. Hear our cry for your world, Lord. Thank you that you are the God of hope, and that we can look to you for salvation, for light, for life and truth and grace and peace. Hosanna, Lord. Thank you that you hear us, that you are always with us, and that as you inspire us, so we can help lead this wounded world into a new chapter. Give us vision and strength to imagine and achieve change, to partner with you in enabling mercy and justice to reign. Vision and strength, Lord Jesus. Grace to imagine and pray. Peace to accept our helplessness with humility and to trust in you for everything. Gratitude and hearts full of praise.

Hosanna.

The cross still stands

The cross still stands.

A few years ago, this was a line from a chorus we sang in Christian worship. Today, despite the intense conflagration in Notre Dame last night, a plain cross gleamed from the depths of the damage.

The cross, a reminder of Jesus’ pain and sacrifice but overwhelmingly a reminder of his victory and the glory that is his. We bear our crosses but we don’t bear them alone; he takes the full weight of our struggles if we lean on him. And beyond the cross lies the victory in him. By his grace. Through his love. In his power.

Jesus. King Jesus. Hosanna. Hallelujah. We worship you.

Footprints of Grace

‘You are the King of Glory; You are the Prince of Peace.’ 

Several years ago I wrote an article, and then a book, encouraging myself and others to be more aware of the answers to prayer which God gives us daily. Sometimes those answers come with an exuberant ‘Yes!’ and we can readily give him praise. Those are the things he does for us. Sometimes those answers don’t seem to come at all, but in fact his answer may be that he is doing something in us, whether or not he does that something for us. And sometimes those answers come through us, without us being particularly aware that we’d even prayed a prayer. That’s when he has touched someone through a word or action on our part, and we have seen it.

‘Angels bow before you, worship and adore...’ Yes, and as I push myself into a heightened awareness of his action in my daily, often uneventful life, I, too, worship and adore.

This is autumn, the season of thankfulness as we see the fruits of our labours ripen and nourish ourselves and others. I’m recommitting myself to being more attentive to just what the Lord is doing in my life: for me, in me, and through me. Because I am sure that I often fail to see his footprints of grace, and therefore fail to give him the glory he deserves.

Hosanna to the King of Kings!

Broken Hearts

Peace. 

There is palpable peace when one sits beside a field of cows munching their way through the grass. 

The world is so filled with horror and sorrow; it is good to find a safe haven in which to rest and listen to the faithful rhythm of the Father’s loving heart, which continues its cadence though it is breaking.

God loved the world so much that he sent his only Son to save us from ourselves. Hosanna. Hosanna. 

Be with those tonight whose hearts are breaking.

Tara's Theme

Strains of the theme from Gone with the Wind come from the radio and I feel like crying. 

Such an epic film, one of overwhelming magnitude in my early years when I saw it first. The scene with Atlanta burning. The desperation of the despicable Scarlet as she does whatever it takes to save Tara. The heart-breaking final line uttered by Rhett, ‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.’ 

Followed by the words of the irrepressible Scarlet as she gathers all that is within her and vows to herself, ‘Well, I’ll think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.’

It’s an epic film because it focuses on a time of huge upheaval and trauma and transition, a time when Southern society was shaken to its core and had to find a new way to do life, when families were split on either side of the divide. A time of death and destruction and disaster.  A time like now in many areas of the world.

And after the Paris attacks on Friday night, the quaking and shattering of societal norms has come to our neighbourhood. The fearful atrocities claim innocent victims in shocking, callous and brutal ways. Ways that have been happening in Iraq and Syria for months, years even, and now it feels as if the darkness is seeping towards us. 

Hosanna! We sang in church today, and never have I sung it with more conviction. God save us! Hosanna! We don’t have a clue how to stop this war but God has the answer. 

Because my hope is in Him, I can say, like Scarlett, that tomorrow is another day. We cannot give way to despair or fear but continue to put our hope and trust in the God who loves the world so much he came and died so that we may live with him forever.

Tomorrow is another day. Paris will be in my prayers but so will Baghdad and Beirut and .... the world.