The Detail

Don took away the broken picket fence that divided vegetable patch from grass and flowers. The acer tree which has grown there for thirty-five years can now be appreciated from my bedroom window, and when I rise each morning, I look out and am astonished at its beauty, particularly at that time of day. The light sits gently, subtly, on the sides of the branches and twigs facing eastwards. It’s not spectacular or breath-taking, and yet I am blessed by the beauty of this detail. Every morning I pause and gaze, and am blessed by this detail.

I always thought the acer was an expensive tree because of its glorious show of reds in the autumn, when the leaves blaze forth before dropping. But now, as I look at its still-bare branches, I appreciate the grace of slender branches as they reach upwards, bending here and there only slightly, twisting occasionally in a sort of arboreal dance. Because we rarely prune, there are many branches, intertwining and resting on one another. I am loving the beauty of the bare branches, and am blessed as I gaze. I am blessed by this detail.

Soon there will be leaves. Leaves which will obscure these exquisite branches, I suppose, but I anticipate that I may appreciate a new revelation of another kind of beauty. I will be blessed by a new detail.

‘I have loved you with an everlasting love,’ God declares to us. That is incredible. That he says it to each one of us individually, wherever we are, whatever our history.

Just as the picket fence obscured my view of the acer tree, so my sin obscures my view of God. I am so grateful that Jesus’ redemption has made me dead to sin, so that as he helps me tear down the picket fence of negative and critical thoughts, of perverse and selfish attitudes and ideas, of fear and doubt, my eyes can more clearly discern the beauty of the Lord. I am blessed by the detail.

At some times, I appreciate the light he shines on me and my circumstances. At other times, I appreciate the stark beauty of his sacrifice and love. Still again at other times, I anticipate that I will appreciate the poignancy of his compassion and the agony of his often unrequited love for the world.

As humanity writhes with the pain of pandemic, the confusion of how to combat the virus and how to keep people safe, the moral dilemmas presented by lock-down, may God help us take down the picket fence of sin so that as we stand in confident hope and assurance of a bright future, increasing numbers of the lost and the frightened can see the reason for our hope, can see who stands with us, and why, in the end, there is no need to fear.

In this world, Jesus said, you will have trouble. But take heart, for I have overcome the world.

May the eyes of all be open to this glorious detail.

Choose Faith

Down in the hollow beside the path nestle the pale yellow primula. We look for them every year, and they don’t disappoint. Nobody tends them, but they appear annually. Their delicate design brings a smile to our faces as we greet old friends with delight, friends not seen since last year.

Distanced from our friends and family, we wonder when we will greet them again with delight, apart from in a virtual fashion. We don’t know, but we do know that ‘this too shall pass’ and we will, indeed, hug and greet loved ones once more.

Corona virus is an invisible enemy, striking indiscriminately. There is horror arising from the fear of not being able to see it.

We have a choice. We can live in fear of an invisible enemy, or we can live in faith in the God who gave his life to set us free from fear. He, too, is invisible, and yet his presence can be felt through the Holy Spirit he entrusts us to.

Again I make the choice, to live in faith. It is a choice that needs to be made moment-by-moment. It is a choice made easier if I use some of the ‘down time’ we have been given, by drawing nearer to God, and getting to know him better.

There is no fear in love. Perfect love casts out fear.

May you choose faith today. May I choose it too.

The Rhythm of Life

In and out. In and out. 

That’s how we breathe. In and out. In and out. If you’re doing Pilates, you’re trying to do a ‘wide’ breath in, and on the out breath, engaging your core. Haven’t quite got that yet, but I’m pretty proficient at breathing in and out, in and out.

That establishes the basic rhythm of life. We had the birth of Felicity in our family ten days ago, and a few days later I heard of the death of a friend’s brother-in-law. Three months after our daughter was born, several years ago now, my own grandfather died. In and out. 

It’s like a swing door. When I was growing up in California, a lot of my friends lived in homes which had kitchen doors a bit like the doors on a western-style saloon, just covering your middle bit, and swinging either way. 

The divider between this world and the next is thin. There is a constant rhythm of lives slipping in and out. Because we love life and like to hold on to what we know, the slipping out part can seem frightening, but the promises of God should dissipate all fear. 

I am with you always, Jesus promises. When everything is ready for you, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am, he assured his disciples, and he assures us. 

So what’s to fear? The unknown? But when we step into the unknown with someone we love and trust, who we know loves us so much he died for us, there is nothing to fear. 

In, out. Simple. The rhythm of life.

In the Wake of the Cross

Silent walk behind the cross this morning, trudging the familiar trail through Banchory. Stopping at several wide-spots along the way to hear the story again. To imagine the rejection, the loneliness, the courage and the pain of Jesus on that first Good Friday.

Silent walk. Time to reflect. To think about his sacrifice. To recognise that feeling worthless is self-indulgent and untrue; why would Jesus have died for me, or for you, if we were worthless? In the words of the ad for a beauty product, he died ‘because we’re worth it’. 

Sometimes that is hard to see. Where we see the problems, Jesus sees the potential. He made each one of us. He knows what is inside of us. He knows how to draw the best out ... if we just let him.

Spend some time in silence today. Think about why Jesus did it. Why he left his glory in heaven to live amongst struggling, poor people. Why he allowed himself to be pinned to the cross. 

Because, in his eyes, ‘we’re worth it’. I know, hard to believe. But it’s true not because of who we are, but of who he is.

Silent walk. Time to reflect on my own path. There are things which obscure the road ahead. Is it straight? Does it turn sharply, or bend gently up ahead? Where are the potholes? Where is the ditch? 

Uncertainties fog my vision and I just don’t know. If I allow it to, fear could grip me and paralyse me into inaction, negating faith.

I won’t allow it to. There is no fear in love, because perfect love casts out fear. And what I see on the cross of Calvary is perfect love. Perfect love named Jesus.

Where there are problems, there is potential. Opportunity for me to see God act in amazing ways. I am open for that. I am alert and watching, my hand firmly in the hand of Jesus as I expect him to lead me through the fog. 

I refuse to stand shivering in indecision. I will walk forward, one step at a time, into a future full of hope and joy. 

All because of what Jesus has done on the cross, memorialised today, on Good Friday.

Thanks be to God.