Seeds of Hope

We’ve had our morning exercise. A brisk walk down the road, picking up litter in one bag, shovelling up horse manure in the other.

The litter went into the bin. Lifeless and decayed, sterile and unable to nurture or feed anything.

The horse manure went into the vegetable patch. What passed through the horses and came out as waste is rich in nutrients to boost the growth of new life, new plants.

In these days of lock down, perhaps many are thinking they are days like the litter, long and good for nothing but discarding. But they don’t need to be. They may feel like ****, but there is life and growth in them if only we allow ourselves to learn lessons and build bridges.

On our walk, we met neighbours who we rarely see. Keeping our social distance, we caught up with them. Briefly. I was so touched when one offered to drive to Heathrow if we needed help getting our daughter home. We hardly know him.

There are green shoots of new life everywhere. Words of kindness and encouragement. Offers of help and words of hope. Connections being made online, on the phone, across the garden fence at a safe distance.

Our vegetable garden will look different in a few months’ time. We hope it will be full of fruit and vegetables to feed our bodies. The wintry garden we are living in during isolation will also look different in a few months’ time. If we take care to nurture relationships now, they will be lush and blooming when we can resume social life again. We are already talking about a neighbourhood BBQ.

Jesus came to give us life in the full. We have yet to experience the fullness he died to bring us. But just as spring is the season of hope, so this awful pandemic carries in it the seeds of hope for a more caring, more connected, less broken world.

In this season of Lent, I am more aware than ever of the faithful love of Jesus as he headed towards the cross for me. The horrible cross carried with it seeds of hope and life, as Jesus was fully glorified as he rose again, triumphant over death and disease. He is still triumphant over death and disease, even in this pandemic. Hallelujah.

The Cost of Forgiveness

There are things I did in my youth which still make me blush with shame. Things that were cruel and uncaring, deceitful ... just plain sinful. The thought that my parents might find out about those things has always made me shift with unease, afraid of the disappointment I would cause them, fearful of their judgment.

Odd that I can confess those things to God without that same fear. God – the holy one – the creator, the Almighty. Why do I not fear the same look of disappointment from him? Why do I not fear his judgment?

I hate to admit it but the reason I don’t fear his look of disappointment is because I don’t know him as well as I know my parents. I can try to imagine his look of disappointment, but not really knowing how his face looks, I find that stretches my imagination a bit too far. I can try to work up in myself a sense of how awful such a look would be, but actually, I can’t do it. I’m left asking him to show me the truth of this one – what does his disappointment look like?

I am not a masochist, but I do want to have a proper sense of shame for the sins of my youth – shame before the Almighty God.

And then the judgment. Why do I not fear his judgment? Not because he doesn’t judge – he is a holy and righteous God who cannot abide sin. No. I don’t fear his judgment because his judgment on my sin has already fallen – and been paid – by Jesus. My Saviour.

I am asking Him to help me really appreciate what that looks like. 

Again, I am not a masochist. But I do want to be filled with the overwhelming gratitude which is the only right response to the incredible sacrifice Jesus made for me. 

I fear I take it all too lightly and matter-of-factly. This Lent, o Lord, may I learn to better appreciate what the price of my sin was to you.

I don’t mean to imply by these thoughts that I consider my sin to be all in the past. I know that daily I continue to disappoint and sin, in thought, word and deed. Help me, O Lord, to grow more like Jesus every day, cleansed of the sin that clogs and stains, filled with the Spirit who liberates and transforms.

On My Knees

Over the last week, I’ve read through Matthew’s gospel. It was enlightening to read it in big chunks, revealing many things which are easily missed when reading sound-bite amounts. The pressure on Jesus from crowds was painfully obvious, for instance. He was fully human, so when bad news came, or big decisions needed making, he needed to be alone. 

But still the crowds followed him, and his grace under that sort of pressure is astonishing.

When I say he needed to be alone, that’s not quite right. He needed to be alone with his Father, the source of his strength, wisdom, and grace, for a refreshing refill of the Holy Spirit in his life.

At the end, after the incredible Passover supper he shared with his friends, he once again sought solace in prayer. He knew what was coming, yet he sought a change of plan. 

Three times he asked the Father to find another way. That implies that the first two times he prayed, he didn’t get an answer, or at least not one he was willing to accept. The third time, though, he did. He understood that despite the horror of what was coming, his Father had it all in hand. And this is where the biggest revelation comes. When he returned to his sleeping disciples after the third time of prayer, he no longer chastises them for not keeping watch with him. Instead he displays a new resolve and strength and courage. He knows what he has to do and he is willing to do it because he trusts in the Father’s absolute love for him and wisdom.

Many times when I face unpleasant things I beg God to find another way. I beg more than three times, I’m sure. I am encouraged by Jesus’ example to face difficult times with courage, knowing that anything the Father allows to happen to me has an ultimate purpose for good. God’s ways aren’t my ways nor are his thoughts my thoughts – thank goodness!

So this Lent I’m going to aim to pray from a less comfy position. I’m going to aim to do my praying – except when I’m walking the dog! – on my knees, and see if that helps me focus more clearly on my Lord.

This morning’s sky is sprinkled with clouds, and as I walked the dog I noticed a break in one blanket of clouds and the glory – shafts of golden light – coming through to spotlight the earth. Behind all the clouds there is the sun – the Son – and his glory is reassuring, enriching, and gives me courage to face whatever comes my way.

How about you?

Neapolitan Sky

Looking west as the sun gets ready to set, the sky is Neapolitan ice-cream colours. After yesterday’s wet snow and biting wind, today has been a gift. 

Well, it is Valentine’s Day, after all, so I am going to accept this as a love gift from our Lord who loves us so much he humbled himself and lived as a poor man, in order to make a way for us to be with him forever. 

Now if that isn’t Valentine Love, I don’t know what is!

Jesus doesn’t wait for one special day to shower his love on us, though. He’s ready to spend ‘quality’ time with us every day, every minute of every day. Just being in his presence is so healing, so restorative, even so much fun. 

Such a pity that in our busy lives, we so rarely give him that precious gift of our time. We are the poorer for it, but it’s a relationship, so he hurts, too, when we disregard him and choose to watch trash TV or gossip on the phone rather than stepping aside and just being with him.

This Lent I’m going to try to carve out special times with him. Hold me accountable in this blog, and I’ll let you know how it goes.

Happy Valentine’s Day, from the Divine Lover of your soul.