Your Kingdom Come

The wonders of technology! A sweet friend sent me an animated e-card for the 4^th of July. As the fireflies swirl round an iconic American farmhouse, red/white/blue flags and decorations appear on the porch. The fireflies move on to a pastoral scene and then to a southern style mansion, with more bunting, more flags, and now people waving and cheering as fireworks explode overhead.

I’ve felt patriotic in a heart-broken way of late, grieving for the USA I knew as a child, which I now see I saw only in part.

Only God is holy. Only God is perfect. May his kingdom come, his will be done on earth – the whole earth – as it is in heaven. Amen.

FREEDOM!

FREEDOM! Mel Gibson cried out in Braveheart.

FREEDOM! The founding fathers thought as they crafted the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776. 

FREEDOM! Jesus offered when he declared, ‘If the Son sets you free, you’ll be free indeed.’

My 4^th of July memories hover round Josie Avenue, where the July sun was hot and the sidewalk baking as we set off the ‘snakes’ and other small fireworks, saving the big display til after dark. The day started with a trip to the icehouse to buy cracked ice while my Mom mixed up the extremely rich batter for homemade ice cream. Thirteen eggs, a quart of thick cream, a bottle of vanilla. Or something like that. Then, my sister Judy and I stood in the cool of the garage watching Dad layer the ice with the rock salt, and then the hand cranking began. It seemed to go on for ages and we took turns, though towards the end, as it grew stiffer, Dad finished it off while we swept the salty water away from the grass. Ice cream made, it was repacked in ice and wrapped in old towels and left until after the BBQ sometime later in the afternoon. My grandparents would come over and Grandma had an adage that you couldn’t keep homemade ice cream in the freezer, which meant we all had to get stuck in and finish the gallon in a day. Heaven. After dark fell about 7.30 pm we gathered for the fireworks, bought over the county line in Orange County because Los Angeles County banned them. Everyone along the block had their boxes and we all admired each others’ over the block walls. Oohs and aahhs at the Roman candles, the Catherine wheels, and the Piccolo Pete’s. (And the smog that fugged the air on July 5^th testified to the number of fireworks displays...)

Today’s just another day in Scotland, but I am thinking of freedom, and focusing on those who are denied it these days – the millions of victims of slavery in our world. Though Jesus referred to spiritual freedom, he cares passionately about all freedom, working through such agencies as IJM to bring it about.

So on this July 4^th, 2017, I join with others in crying out to a world caught in chains of bondage, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual: FREEDOM!

Fantastic Fireballs and Fireworks!

OK, I know the origin of the fireball ceremony is pagan, but I kind of like the symbolism of submerging the grot from last year into the harbour, and starting into the new year without any baggage. And I know that isn’t the thinking behind the fireballs, which have something to do with scaring off demons. But we all take what we want from ceremonies and traditions.

The fireballs were pretty impressive on Hogmanay, and there was something special about being in a crowd of hopeful humans looking into the new year together. It was a sober but friendly crowd, enjoying the camaraderie of being in close proximity with strangers all there to view something rather extraordinary. 

After swinging these great balls of fire over their heads while walking to the square and back to the harbour, the thirty or so participants then headed for the sandy beach of the harbour. There they wound up, literally – with various degrees of energy and power – and flung the flaming torches into the waters of the harbour, where they sizzled and fizzled and died.

A full moon shone down on the lightly lapping waters of the North Sea, twinkling and dancing on the waves. The air was cold but not unbearable. And then there were the fireworks, launched from the cliffs above Stonehaven. Together the crowd oohed and aahhed and generally expressed their joy or disappointment as successive salvoes of coloured explosives broke overhead and twinkled their way to earth.

And so on into 2013. Prayerfully, I am launching my own fireballs from last year at the foot of the cross of Jesus, and leaving them there for him to deal with – be it fizzle or forgive or bear the weight for me. 

I am grateful to have such a Saviour as I head into another year, full of many unknowns, many of which lurk threateningly on the sidelines of my mind. I pray that you and I may both be able to leave the grot with Jesus and move on, unencumbered, into 2013.

God bless you.