Faithful One

Fresh paint, new curtains, and a computer desk centred at the bedroom window. Today I sat at my new work station for writing, and wrote. 

I tried not to be too distracted by the cows meandering past, though I confess that the one walking with a limp tugged at my heart and I wondered if I ought to run out into the field and get her number and call the farmer. I re-focused on my screen. Then there was the tractor in the field beyond, literally ploughing up and down, back and forth, with a very energetic collie racing alongside, back and forth, back and forth, and a swarm of seagulls enjoying the bounty of the broken field. 

There’s no internet up there, so I’m excited to see the difference it makes to my writing. No distractions of email, facebook, blogs!

Come away with me, Jesus said to his disciples a few times. I sense he’s been saying that to me lately, so I hope it’s up to that new writing room where I may be especially open to his inspiration. Watch this space.

More distractions

I stood watching Dusty scout a parking lot down the road. She would head off in one direction, then her head would suddenly snap around and she’d make a 90 degree turn and follow an intriguing smell in another. She bounced from smell to smell until she tired of it all and continued along the road.

Soon a former neighbour drove up and paused to chat. He had much to moan about – poor health, inefficient staff in his neighbourhood grocery store. He concluded that ‘nobody gives two hoots these days’ and I found myself nodding in agreement.

But I don’t agree! I realized after he’d driven off that I was just like Dusty. I have determined to soak in Scripture so that my thoughts align with those of God, so that I have the mind of Christ, and then, wham, I veer off in a very cynical and worldly assessment of things in order to be agreeable to my neighbour.

How can I be the sweet fragrance of Jesus to those I meet if I’m ready to concur when the moaning begins? Jesus is always positive, always encouraging, always loving. I need help here.

I don’t want to be like Dusty, heading off in the direction that Jesus is leading, only to snap back and join in the moaning or the gossiping.

I need to take to heart something I read in Hosea this morning. Always depend on the Lord.

Sugar Soap

The bedroom ceiling looked fine to me, even after a couple of decades of neglect. Still white. 

But actually, now it has been washed with sugar soap and rinsed, it looks brilliant white. Almost too good to bother painting again – though we will as we are renewing the wallpaper and everything else in there.

It makes me think, though, how perceptions and standards can be skewed. I look at something I’ve done, perhaps, and think it’s pretty good, but actually it could be better. I think it’s easy to look at life as a Christian, too, and be a bit complacent. Easy to tick off the good things I’ve done or nice things people have said and think that’s good enough.

But Paul says, basically, never to take your eye off the ball. Focus on Jesus and keep running the race. Don’t be distracted; don’t think the race is over until it is. 

It takes discipline and resolve. Sometimes we need to pull out and shower – get rid of the world’s dirt and dust that sticks as we go through it. Sometimes we need to be refreshed – we can’t run forever without topping up with Jesus’ life-giving water. And then we need to get out there again and continue with the race. 

Not because we have to. Not out of duty. Out of love for Jesus. Knowing that as we run his race, we’re running with him. 

Running beside him reveals the need I have for more sugar soap. The contrast is pretty noticeable. But he is gentle and loving and ready to forgive. 

Yippee.

Distractions

Middle of May and five layers still when I walk Dusty. Vest, t-shirt, sweater, fleece and windbreaker, plus a woolly hat pulled down over my ears. Gloved hands jammed into my pockets for extra warmth.

Amongst the tired green of the evergreens in the forest, the new growth on larch and beech is fresh and beautiful. Above the forest soars a bird of prey. Echoing through the woods I hear the tap-tapping of the woodpeckers, and the occasional crazy call of the cuckoo.

I round the corner and the wind blasts me in the face and I jam my hands down more firmly, muttering something grumpy. I find myself praying that the Lord would send a warmer sun and divert this biting wind. 

Dusty is happy, trotting ahead and sniffing the air greedily.

We round another corner and there is the wild and restless mooing of cows and calves. I see the farmer’s tractor, a bale of hay stabbed onto its upturned prong, stopped near the field and wonder if the herd is being moved. Dare I continue my walk, or will we find ourselves in the middle of a stampede?

Walking on, I see the herd is clustered at the gate, mooing their dissatisfaction. We rejoin the road and head for home, and soon the farmer overtakes us. Shutting off the tractor’s engine, he stops for a wee ‘news’. 

Yes, the cows are impatient for grass. And in this cold weather, the grass just isn’t growing. (Why did I have to cut ours yesterday, then, I wonder? Maybe I should have invited the cows in...) So he’s having to give them hay, which he’d hoped to hold on to awhile longer for some reason.

I shiver. Another car comes; the tractor starts up and the farmer moves on, and so do we. The house is back in sight, with its tree-lined drive. Each tree is now bursting out in its spring finery. The colours are lovely. 

I am so easily distracted by the cold wind, and lose sight of the bigger picture. To God I probably sound like one of those miserable cows. Yucks. May I retain focus on what is important today, Lord, expecting to see you work in wonderful ways.