Up the Tree

The pheasant flew up to a low branch on the huge larch tree outside the window of the living room. We were startled. Usually pheasants flap and rise up briefly before settling back on the ground and running. We’d never seen any fly up into a tree.

Awhile later, as the darkness deepened, we could see that this beautiful bird had worked his way up, higher, onto a branch safe from predators, where he could sleep in peace.

We are in testing times. Predators circle, taking pot shots at our courage, at our love, at our faith. Scripture tells us that we are helpless without Jesus. Without Jesus, we are ‘sitting pheasants’, easy pickings for sin’s attacks. Though we have been raised from death to life, we slip back into the darkness daily, in our thoughts, in our words, in our deeds. Trusting Jesus for everything is the definition of life itself.

I am like that fat pheasant. I don’t fly very well. But I can just about get myself onto the lowest branch of trust in Jesus (with a boost up from the wind of the Spirit). Then, as I recognise where I am, and that I am, indeed, safe, because of his protection, Jesus helps me inch higher up, further in, where he restores courage, renews love, revives faith.

He is light and life. We don’t understand fully, but as we lean in, he reveals more. May this testing time have an outcome that we are all more aware of our absolute dependence on Jesus our Saviour.

Blue Tractor

The powerful blue tractor roared into the field of grass, lowered its sharp cutting edge and started a methodical sweep round the field surrounding our house. My little granddaughter, frightened by the noise and ferocity of the vehicle, was equally mesmerised and drawn to watch its every move...from the safety of my arms.

So we began a circuit of movement within our garden and then out onto the driveway and behind the barns in order to keep the grass-cutting tractor in sight. Felicity, cautious by nature, was happy to be carried through the nettles and thistles behind the barn in order to keep an eye on the tractor.

Safe in my arms. Trusting me to be caring for her and in trusting me, her vista was expanded and she saw much more than if she had run for the shelter of the house or tried to fight her way through the overgrowth behind the barn to see the action on her own.

God so longs for me to trust him with my safety, so that he can show me things which otherwise I cannot, or will not, see. Felicity just wanted to watch the tractor; I want to partner with God to help bring his kingdom of justice and love to the earth, as it is in heaven. To do that, I suspect I need to allow myself to be carried sometimes.

Adrift on a Great Sea of Unknowing

I’ve been reading the story of Noah this morning, thinking of the fear and apprehension the family must have felt as the great ark rose and rocked on the waters and was thrown around in the waves and wind. All stability had disappeared and they had nothing left to cling to – except the Rock of Ages.

The last few months have been similar in some ways. Change of circumstances and emotional traumas of bereavement coupled with the pain of shingles threw my dear mother into waters over her head and she grabbed out like a drowning person, desperate to regain stability and familiarity. Those closest to her in the water at the time, Mhairi and I, were the ones she reached out to and nearly submerged us in the roiling waters. 

The last thing I would ever have tried to learn how to do was life-saving in the swimming pool. It has always been much more likely that I would be the one needing the saving, and the thought of some desperate and frightened person using my head as a foothold to safety, thereby submerging me, is enough to fill me with dread and panic. And yet here I was, with Mhairi, the two people closest to Mom and so the natural ‘rocks’ for her to grab on to. In her panic, that desperation came out in angry disbelief that we could be so treacherous as to remove her from her familiar surroundings and then abandon her in a new place full of strangers. There were times when Mhairi and I felt we could go under ourselves. When the fleeting temptation came that maybe we should just run away. Give up. Abandon the whole situation. 

But underneath were the everlasting arms. Jesus’ promise is never to leave nor forsake us and boy have I found that to be true over these turbulent months. He has been the rock on which we have stood and now, as the storm abates and the waters grow calm, he is the one in whom we rejoice. He has brought us safely through. He has filled my heart with songs of deliverance and he has once again proven himself faithful, loving and true. 

Thankful seems inadequate – deeply deeply grateful for his navigation and life jackets. I am so grateful that though our lives often feel like they are a great sea of unknowing, we are never really adrift or alone. Jesus is always there.

Sudden Squalls

The Sea of Galilee is prone to sudden squalls, roiling up out of nowhere. When I was there last month, the water was steely grey and choppy, but fortunately for us, while we were out on it there was no dramatic deterioration of the weather. I’m not great on boats in bad weather. Sailing off the west coast of Scotland has proven that.

After our early morning sea voyage that day, quietly contemplating or singing worship songs, we disembarked and did some other sightseeing in the area. When we returned to our hotel room that night, the rainbow over the Sea was just amazing. Such a gift.

I’m leading the reflections in the Scottish parliament tomorrow afternoon, and will be speaking about one instance when Jesus’ friends were out on the Sea of Galilee without him. When a fierce storm blew up, they thought they were done for, but then they saw Jesus approaching, walking on the water. They were all terrified he was a ghost, which he reassured them he was not.

When Peter asked him to prove it by calling him to his side on the water, Jesus did, and Peter leapt out of the boat and over the side. While his eyes remained fixed on Jesus he did not sink, but when he was distracted by the winds, down he went. Jesus took his hand and helped him back into the boat.

It’s such a picture of hope. When we are overtaken by sudden squalls in our own lives, Jesus is there, in remarkable ways. Maybe in the words of a song or the sound of a bird. In the laughter of a child or a rainbow. 

Tomorrow I’ll be talking about getting out of the boat. But today, I like the assurance that even in the sudden squalls, Jesus is with us, reaching out to help us back into a safe place.

Jesus is always with us.