A Singing Father God

‘He will rejoice over you with singing.’ 

I was sitting in the prayer window this morning, enjoying the beauty of the fast-falling golden leaves and noticing that the barer the trees get, the clearer the view. In the profusion of life, vision can be blocked by the lushness of relationships, responsibilities and requirements. Hemmed in – though many of the obstructions are much loved and enjoyed – we can lose sight of what lies beyond. It’s as the leaves begin to drop and the profusion is stripped away, that we can see the view and anticipate the journey.

So Scolty has reappeared, as the Norwegian elm drops her summer attire. And Clach na Ben.

Oops, that was a wee diversion. I was actually going to say that while asking God this morning if I could please hear him singing – wouldn’t it be awesome to hear his voice? Would it be operatic, hip-hop, pop, reggae, chorister?  – I was suddenly aware of the trilling, chirping and chatter of the birds in the larch tree. Singing. Singing.

Sometimes when I ask for the supernatural, I’m answered in the ordinary. The beautiful ordinary becomes extraordinary. My hearing of the birdsong has acquired a new depth, a greater meaning.

He’s rejoicing over you, too.

So grateful

I’ve heard it said that thankfulness is the Christian form of mindfulness. As I begin to count my blessings this morning, I feel myself slowing down. My perspective on life shifts. I muffle the shriek of the urgent as I contemplate the bounty of my life. 

I give thanks for my health. The blips I have are compassionately and skilfully handled by our amazing NHS, as I said in my last post. That blog gained a much bigger readership than normal which reveals the appreciation we share for the wonderful health service we enjoy here. 

I give thanks for my family. I am so grateful for a loving husband, always kind and caring, with a heart of compassion and a zeal to work against injustice of all kinds. I am grateful for four amazing ‘kids’ who live out their faith in various significant ways, each with his/her own stamp of personality on whatever they do. I rejoice in five beautiful grandchildren, one still on the way, one already with Jesus, and three lovely wee ones with joy bursting from each one of them. I am blessed to still have my dear Mother at the end of the phone, still knowing who I am and still up and healthy and living a full life. 

I give thanks for my church family. Amazing people of all ages and walks of life, coming together to do life together, passionate for Jesus and for being his hands and feet in our hurting community and world. So grateful.

I rejoice to see a bit of sun this morning, holding out the hope that tomorrow’s BBQ may not be under canvas or in the garage as we dodge bullets of rain from on high! But if we do dodge rain, we will laugh and enjoy each other just as much.

There is so much to be grateful for here in this beautiful country of Scotland, where peace reigns and we have plenty of food and water (!!). So grateful to live in the UK, even with all its growing pains and struggles. 

Praying that in all I do and say today I will be an ambassador for Jesus, bringing a bit of light into the dark places.

The Bigger Picture

Remember those pictures with the hidden pictures inside of them? Can’t remember what they were called, (magic eye?), but I can remember staring at one in my uncle’s house, trying to relax my eye (as he instructed irritatingly) so as to see the second image concealed within the obvious picture. 

Thinking about life this morning, and how we can become so intent on seeing the detail, the smaller pictures in our lives, that we lose sight of the bigger picture. I know I’ve been writing about perspective recently but maybe it’s just a theme in my life at the moment. 

As a mother, I want my kids’ lives to run smoothly and if there is a problem, I want to fix what I can and then watch God fix what I can’t. I do my pathetic bit and pray increasingly fervent and frustrated prayers if the problem isn’t going away. I lose sight of the bigger picture and I lose sight of the generous God who has given us life. 

This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it. The first line of one of the first choruses I learned after being born again, and it comes back to me usually in the teeth of a storm. 

There is no physical storm today but in the lives of a couple I love the storm rages on. We all search the horizon for a break in the storm clouds but sometimes it seems all we see are yet more black clouds piling up. 

An Old Testament prophet, Habakkuk, wrote, ‘Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Saviour’. He wrote that not while lounging on a sun-drenched beach but when devastation and starvation loomed large. That is not easy. But today, I face neither devastation nor starvation, so how can I do any less? I will rejoice in the Lord; I will be joyful in God my Saviour. 

Jesus is the bigger picture. Today I will get lost in him. This is the day he has made. I will rejoice and be glad in him.

Colours and Moods

I’m surrounded by wallpaper pattern books as we try to decide how to redecorate a bedroom and the dining room. Neither has been touched for over 25 years; suffice it to say, it’s time.

So many designs; so many colours. I thought I wanted something dramatic like black and white with a vibrant splash of red somewhere, but now I find myself drawn to shades of antique blues, rosy pinks and pale golds. Each colour creates a mood. Would a darker wall make for a warmer glow for a candlelit dinner in the dining room – provided I remember to light the candles!? Or would it make the room just feel dismal in this northern country where the sun doesn’t shine as much as we’d like? 

That’s why I’ve got a yellow kitchen, hallway and conservatory – trying to maximise the weak sunlight. 

Geometric or floral? Striped or dotted? Plain or embossed? 

Does it really matter what’s on the walls of our home? Not really, and yet ... God made this world full of beauty and diversity and colour and shape. He didn’t need to make a giraffe with a ludicrous neck, or an elephant with a ridiculous trunk, but he did and it adds to the richness of life. He didn’t need to make each individual unique, every fingerprint a one-off, every personality different from every other personality. But he did, because he is the God of the massive, and the God of the minute. The God of the vast expanse and the God of the tiny detail. And I think he looks at us and delights to see us explore our own inner creative possibilities.

What we put on the wall maybe doesn’t matter so much as the process through which we go as we consider all those choices, and try to come to a compromise with each other. 

I praise God that we don’t live in a world that is just fifty shades of grey.