The Colours of Autumn

Oranges, russets, yellows and browns. The countryside is still resplendent in autumn glory, though some trees have discarded the last of their leaves and stand denuded in the frosty cold. 

Walking through the woods today with Mhairi who lives in LA. She commented on how although Southern California is beautiful, it lacks the variation of weather and vibrancy of seasonal colours which she finds stunning. The carpet of orange bracken nearly obscured the path we were on as we tramped together round Scolty.

The colours of autumn: colours which are harbingers of hibernation. Hibernation – perhaps that’s a better word than ‘death’. Perhaps, as Christians, it would be a more accurate word to describe that state of life when we finally cease to draw breath. When we migrate to ‘the other side’: we ‘pass away’, ‘pass on’, or nowadays, simply ‘pass’. 

Pass is a weird word for it I think, as it implies an exam to me. Pass or fail. It seems when it comes to escaping this mortal coil, we all pass. 

Maybe migration would be a good word, now that I think about it. Mhairi and I were discussing how geese migrate in a v-formation, and the lead goose is alternated as they go. Is that so one goose doesn’t get all the glory? Or so he/she doesn’t get worn out? Or if one isn’t so great at navigation, the next leader might be able to correct the errors before the whole flock goes seriously astray? 

I don’t know. But I do know that there are some people in my life who have showed me how to migrate out of it. Who have demonstrated courage and dignity as they endured the final days and who slipped through the curtain without complaint. My sister Judy. My dad. 

Oranges, russets, yellows and browns. The colours of autumn. Harbingers of hibernation.

Seasons all have their beauties. Even old age.

Twas the Night

‘Twas the night before Christmas. 

Two years since my dear dad’s death. A sad anniversary, on the eve of the memorial to the most incredible day in history. The day that the creator God invaded earth to live among us as one of us.

To stand beside us and weep in our sorrow. To chuckle and guffaw with us through our joys. To celebrate our successes, mourn our failures, and never leave us alone.

Never.

Our earthly loved ones will leave us at some point, or we will leave them. That’s the way of this world.

But God will never leave us. He is with us yesterday, today and forever. Immanuel – God with us.

But until Jesus returns to recreate this world for his family to share with him, it will always be the night before Christmas in a way. Because although he is always with us, it’s not always in a way that we appreciate. 

We know it by faith now, but then we shall see him face to face. 

It will no longer be the night before... it will be Christmas then, forever.

Merry Christmas now, as we celebrate his coming to earth, and as we anticipate the Christmas that is to come, which will never end.

Water, water everywhere

Water, water everywhere ...

I think I would be telling the truth if I claim that it hasn’t rained in 24 hours. That is the longest dry spell we’ve had here in Scotland for months, I should think.

Dusty and I had a ramble round the local hill this morning, and I noticed the cascading burns are less full than the last time we went, when water gurgled and splashed its way across compacted paths and spongey green banks.

The dog waited hopefully beside the stagnant pond, and I unthinkingly threw a stick in for her to retrieve. A sour smell greeted me and I invited Dusty out of that stinky water and onwards to something sweeter.

Beside a gurgling burn, s she chewed contentedly at the bark of a stick, and I listened to the cheerful chatter of the fresh water as it tumbled over rocks and tree roots. Fresh, clean water. Delicious to drink; refreshing (I imagine) to bob around in. 

Water is wonderful, despite our moans when we seem to get it too frequently pouring on us from above. Jesus invites us to come to him so that streams of living water will flow from us. Living water, not stagnant water. 

Some Christians do go to him and drink of the stream, but then fail to allow it to flow on through them into the thirsty world round about. It stagnates then, becomes sour, and no longer carries life. In fact, some water carries death – organisms which bring disease or illness. 

I am feeling tired today. Full of hay fever and antihistamines. Emotionally drained from another hard parting with my mother and my daughter, who left yesterday to return to California. 

I am going to Jesus, where I plan to drink what he gives me, and I hope that – once more refreshed – I can be a carrier of a stream of living water for others.

The Fragrance of Spring

Walking down the drive with Dusty this morning, my nostrils were greeted with the glorious fragrance of spring blossom. The flowers on the broom, flame-yellow, have that slight aroma of coconut – delicious.

Sad, then, to see so much blossom already dying on the ground where it’s fallen. It doesn’t last long. Of course, if the blossom is from a fruit-bearing tree, although the blossom is on the ground the fruit is beginning to sprout on the trees – hope of a feast to come. Cherries are the fruits along our drive. Usually the birds harvest most of the sweet, tiny dark cherries, known locally as ‘geens’. But if we’re quick enough, we’ll rescue a few, and enjoy their juicy flesh.

Paul writes about the fragrance of Jesus. It is the essence of pure love, sacrificial, unconditional, eternal. He says to the Corinthians that God spreads the aroma of the knowledge of Christ through believers, arousing a reaction among those with whom we mix. Those whose faith is in Christ smell that delicious scent of blossom, with the promise of fruit to come, fruit for the hungry. Those hungry may find the aroma arouses an appetite in them to know God, a spiritual hunger and thirst they never before experienced.  And the promise of Jesus is that whoever comes to him will never be turned away.

There are also people, however, who will find the fragrance of Jesus to be a stench that wrinkles the nose and causes them to turn away in disgust. Some will choose to seek to satisfy spiritual hunger and thirst in other ways. 

Of course it is true that in every generation, there are Christians who are Christians in name more than in heart, expressing itself in attitude and action. Those who are quick to judge, quick to condemn, self-righteous and proud. Such ‘Christians’ do give off a stench of death and bring the name of Jesus into disrepute. 

It’s so important for believers to spend enough time marinating in Jesus, so that the scent they carry is attractive and true. Any one of us could fall into the trap of busyness in church activities especially, which robs us of time spent lingering in the presence of Jesus, and which then allows the fragrance in us to go sour and our witness to become off-putting to the world.

Today I pray that the fragrance of Jesus in me bears fruit that nourishes the dry and hungry spirits of others.

Golden Lining

Only two hours to go until middle son arrives home. He hasn’t been home for a year, though I did see him in California in November. 

Excitement is palpable. The room has been washed down. The bed has been made up fresh. Carpets hovered. Drawers emptied in preparation for his arrival. Food bought in.

Jesus said he was going ahead of us to prepare a room for us.

That’s something to hang on to at the end of life. While it is so sad to leave behind those we have loved, the excitement of knowing that in heaven, Jesus is busy washing down your room, making a bed up fresh and getting in food for a feast is just amazing.

A golden lining to that very black cloud.