Thanks for the muck today...

We both heard the throb of the diesel engine and anticipated seeing the BT engineer’s van pull up outside. No.

Then I noticed the neighbouring farmer, out in the field across the road, mounding muck onto the hard, unploughed ground.

Dusty and I walked past it awhile later, and the smell reminded me of the muck in the field. I thought about it. The field is hard now, unproductive during the cold winter months. Its nourishment was spent last summer growing the barley crop. And so, the farmer is collecting up the organic wastes of his animals and creating a muck mountain out there, in preparation for spring ploughing.

It is steaming and rich. And smelly.

I returned from town a few hours later, having delivered Christmas cards, to be greeted by Don’s statement, “I hope you have a good sense of humour.” 

The way he said it, I knew I didn’t have that good a sense of humour. Not today. Not two weeks into being without internet connection.

BT had just telephoned to say they wouldn’t make it today after all, and it will now be three or four days hence. 

No. I don’t have that good a sense of humour. 

Then I remembered the muck earlier in the morning. The hard, resource-depleted ground. 

Anything like my heart? I’ve been doing too much in this pre-Christmas season, and not allowing enough time to sit with the Saviour and think about what really matters.

How much time is being recovered by us being off-line? How much time do we waste on the internet every day? If I were able to weigh wasted hours in the same way one can weigh cattle’s waste...

So, I am going to make a deliberate attempt to redeem the wasted time. I am going to continue ‘doing’ things as I get ready for Christmas next week, but I am going to do things while I worship God, singing along to praise and Christmas CDs, thinking of Jesus.

Spending time when I might have been busy online writing emails, blogs and tweets, focusing on God instead.

It’s as if I am wresting back the time I might have wasted shopping on-line – the time wasted on materialism – to spend it consciously in the presence of God. 

So, Lord, thank you for the muck today. I wouldn’t have chosen to have it dumped on my life, but now that it’s there – thank you.

Rolling in it

No, not money. Muck.

Why do dogs do that? You turn your back for a minute while marching through a newly harvested field, which must be full of so many enticing smells for a dog – mice, rabbits, pheasants, deer. 

And muck.

When you turn back there she is, shoulder and back squirming on the ground. 

I thought it was cute. I thought she was just getting a good back rub on the hay stubble. But when we got back to the house and shut the door, the truth was obvious. What a stink!

So outside on this cold morning to have a bath. Now that’s another thing. Why does Dusty so hate baths, and yet so love leaping into any watercourse we may be near? 

I guess I have a vague idea how Jesus feels when he’s walking along, thinking I’m right behind him, and when he turns around I’m rolling around in some sort of muck. Maybe gossiping. Or refusing to forgive an infraction against me. Or being lazy. Or worse.

It took more than a bucket of water for him to wash me clean. It cost him his life, and yet I continue to roll around in the muck sometimes and need him to wash me all over again.

I am so ashamed. And so sorry.

Well, tomorrow’s another day, and he, being full of grace and mercy, has given me yet another chance. I am so grateful.

The thing is, I am now watching Dusty like a hawk to make sure she doesn’t flop into a pile of muck. But Jesus trusts me, and expects me to be following right behind him. 

I hope he helps me to do that. I can’t do it on my own. The muck is too tempting.