Pesky Flies

Warmer weather brings us all outside. Including lazy black flying bugs – not exactly flies but just as annoying. The danger of speaking on today’s walk was that I might have a black bug stuck on a front tooth or surfing on my tongue. (It didn’t stop me …)

Irritating and annoying. But not dangerous, as far as I know. They don’t bite. They don’t carry disease. They just duck and dive in front of your face as you walk or cycle.

They represent the level of annoyance most of us in the west live with usually. Pesky irritations. Interruptions. Delays, not disease.

Covid-19 is a salutary lesson for us all, opening our eyes to the knife edge on which most of the world lives normally. I’ve never forgotten the choir of Ugandan orphans who sang for us in Banchory years ago. At the evening service, we circled round for a spontaneous thanksgiving prayer. None of ‘us’ could get a word in, so sparky were these destitute children in voicing their gratitude to God. ‘Thank you for the sunshine’; ‘thank you for my hands and feet’; ‘thank you for Jesus’.

They had a lot more to contend with than a few pesky flies. Now, in a pandemic, I have more respect than ever for those who live with such uncertainty, and do so with grace and joy, exuberant joy.

Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer, Paul wrote to the Romans. Reminded of that verse recently, it seems so appropriate right now. I pray that joy will extend its roots deeper into my being than they have ever been. Anchored in the love of Jesus. Thank you, Jesus.

Grandpa took the hit

Grandpa was playing with his two-year-old grandson, ragging around on the couch. He lifted the wee boy aloft and leaned back, misjudging the placement of pillows and backrests, and suddenly found himself rolling right backwards and off the couch onto the floor beneath. The wee boy giggled wildly, thinking it was all part of the game. Grandpa grimaced as his rib hit the wood, but he didn’t say anything.

The bruise was deep, invisible to the naked eye. He ignored its soreness and ache, so happy was he that his grandson came through unscathed. And they continued to play.

Jesus took the hit for us. He didn’t complain, either. He chose to be hurt in order to save us. He still takes the hit for us, every time he intervenes, stepping into our messes and helping us sort them out. There is a price to pay, and Jesus pays it. Because of his love for us. For you. For me.

Thank you, Jesus, from the depth of my being. Thank you.

Friday's Feast

With a tsunami of bad news from the newspapers, radios and TVs, threatening to drown all hope, I thought it would be good to focus Friday’s thinking on feeding my spirit (and hopefully stimulating you to feed yours) by remembering some of the great things God has done this week.

There are the two ladies faithfully picking up my mother’s paper and putting it on her porch, one lady who Mom has never met. Thank you God, for the gentle touch, reminding Mom that you see, and you care.

There was the sale of a car which didn’t pass its MOT last week, and now the provision of possibly two replacement cars. Thank you, Lord, that you meet all our needs.

Improving health round here – praise the Lord!

News of something which I am not yet free to share but which is awesome, truly awesome. Praise God.

Inspiration for writing the children’s talk for church this week – extolling the faithfulness of God who always keeps his promises. Couldn’t have done it without you, Lord.

Daily encouragements from God’s word. A lamp to my feet. Thank you.

The promise of something else which is wonderful which requires more prayer before it can be shared. I’m on it, God!

Time to share with Don. Thank you, Jesus.

A return to the Bible study which I’ve missed so much over the past few weeks. Thank you for every friend there, Lord, and bless them today.

Every day I draw near to God through nature, which is such a blessing. Every day God provides food for our table and fuel for the fire and warm clothes. Every day God blesses us with good contacts with friends and family, deepening relationships. Every day I can connect with my mother via Skype and be sure all is well with her. Every day my legs have been strong enough and my health good enough to wrap up warm and head out with Dusty. Into a peaceful country, free from fear of attack.

Thank you, Lord, for all my blessings.

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.