Time is short

Time was short today, because I had my weekly outing to the grocery store. I confess that I came home grumpy. I’m getting tired of the mask and fussing with plastic gloves. I’m really tired of washing and wiping down the purchases when I get back.

Then I feel guilty. I have it so good. I can afford to buy the food we want. I can drive to the shop. I come home to a husband and daughter and enjoy a poached egg and coffee which they have prepared. I have no complaints, only gratitude for my undeserved blessings.

In keeping with my ambition to play my cello every day, I squeezed in a quarter of an hour just now. I didn’t bother with my glasses or the music. I played from the heart, to my king. Hosanna, hosanna, hosanna in the highest. The splendour of the king. Thank you, Lord. Praise your name.

How great is our God. I am so grateful that although I have no idea how we will ever get out of this fearful pandemic, God knows. I hold before the throne of grace all those who are suffering with the illness or the loneliness or the bereavement or the anxiety or the exhaustion. Grace and peace in the name of Jesus, our Saviour.

Trust

Trust.

Noah did everything God said. He built the ark and filled it as instructed. Once inside, God closed the door so nobody else could get in.

Pestilence sweeps across the world, heedless of borders. Borders which are being closed, one after another, leaving refugees without help or hope on the other side. Trapped, with no way in or out.

Across many nations, we have been instructed to self-isolate, so we have gathered our loved ones inside our homes, as instructed by government. Some have pulled up their drawbridges, refusing entry to all those caught outside as the rains come down and the waters rise. Focused on maintaining physical health at all costs, mental and spiritual health are imperilled. We are social beings. We were made to be community, and that means we sometimes take risks to bring others into safety.

Common sense designed the policy. It’s a good one. But God has not closed the door to our homes as he did to the ark. When there are people in need who have no safe haven, he calls us to reach out a hand and bring them in. It is so encouraging during these days to see and read of so many examples of people doing just that.

In these days of turmoil and uncertainty, fear is fed as we hole up and just look after ourselves. Jesus calls us to trust him. To walk on the waters which may roil and rage, our focus on him. To minister to those out in the storm, and to bring them in to the peace which is Jesus.

May we all stay safe as we self-isolate, but also be alert and responsive to the cries for help that reach our ears. Don’t let your hearts be troubled and don’t be afraid, Jesus says. Why? Because he has overcome the world.

Swimming in the Matrix

I struck off across the width of the pool. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Only the deep end was open to swimmers as the shallow end was taken up with a parent/child swimming class. So no lane swimming. Whew. Only widths. Back and forth. Back and forth.

I am not a confident swimmer. I have always struggled to really believe I am not going to sink. I have signed up for lessons, determined now, as I approach my four score and ten, that I will conquer the fear and learn to trust. Trust that my body is buoyant. Trust that a few simple movements are enough to keep me afloat. I don’t need to flail. Flailing exhausts me and stalls my progress.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Forty times in as many minutes. Back and forth and over and out.

Next week I will seek to increase that number. But for now, forty widths is good. I am getting stronger.

I am learning to trust.

Commit your way to the Lord, the Psalmist advises. Trust in him.

It is the Lord who keeps me afloat. The Lord who directs my steps. The Lord who gives me breath and blesses me in a thousand ways every single day.

Swimming in the matrix of the Lord, I will not sink. He will help me to persevere; he will transform my mind and soften my heart; he will enlighten and inspire me by his Holy Spirit.

I am so grateful.

Royal Robes

A thin white blanket covers the fields, hiding the imperfections. The royal robes Jesus gives me covers me, though my imperfections are still all too visible. My ungracious words reveal them. My unkind actions. My failure to act. My critical thoughts. I can’t seem to keep those royal robes on.

But I trust him to continue to help me. He never gives up.  He never abandons or leaves me. One day I will see him face to face, and the royal robes, which I will never deserve, will stay on, by his grace and mercy.

Beast from the East

Just when we thought the #beastfromtheeast had blown itself out, it seems his cousin is beginning to huff and puff our way. Snow is a possibility for the weekend. And there I was yesterday writing about crocus and the sense of spring in the air. Sigh.

There’s another beast from the east commanding the attention of news media right now, too, a sinister beast whose huffs and puffs threaten indiscriminate mayhem and destruction. This morning I read Psalm 37, which includes some verses about beasts, referred to as ‘the wicked’. Despite their schemes and attacks, the psalmist declares that the Lord laughs at them. Generally, one only laughs at a bully when one is confident of one’s own power and might.

I find it reassuring, that as nightmarish as it is to know that the wicked lay in wait to target victims with lethal horrors, God is more powerful and he knows that their story will be short. We are to hope in him, trust in him, and pray. That’s where the real power lies.

Special Delivery

We were expecting two deliveries yesterday. As day rolled into evening, I went online to check the progress of one of them, and saw that it had been rolled over a day. We got up this morning, hopeful. By 8 am, the coal had come. As yet, no sign of the other delivery.

‘Today, when you hear his voice’, I read this morning in one version of the Bible. Another version reads ‘Today, if you hear his voice’. I don’t know which is more accurate, but I know which I prefer. I prefer expectancy, rather than insecurity. 

Trust in the Lord and he will make your path straight. Our walk is one of faith, and so as I step out today I expect to hear his voice. He’s always with us, and he’s not always silent. And I expect to receive the second delivery, too!

Appeasing the Lion

Imagery of the wild and untamed world yet again. Too much cheese? Or is God speaking? I know what I think: see what you think.

So last night I had a powerful dream which I actually remembered when I awoke. I was back home in Long Beach, on Josie Avenue, in the bedroom I grew up in at the house my Mom sold a couple of years ago now. I was in ‘my’ bedroom lying down in a double bed. I was sharing the bed with a lion, a male lion with the full mane. While I regarded him with apprehension, he slept peacefully. 

Somehow I knew that Mom was in the house somewhere, and that there were an additional two lions in the house too - lionesses. I wasn’t terrified; I didn’t run away or rush to warn Mom or try to kill the lion(s), but with a measure of anxiety in my heart I headed to the fridge to find something to feed the lion when he awoke. I had a very real fear that otherwise I would be his next meal. 

I retrieved what I thought was a chunk of cheese from the pretty empty fridge, only to discover it was butter. Somehow I thought that he might have been satisfied with a chunk of cheese, but that butter just would not do the trick.

Just back from a walk where I examined the dream with God, sure there are depths in there that need plumbing. For now, what I understand is that although I am in ‘bed’ with God, I’m not trusting that he is happy just to have me near. I feel I need to placate him somehow, to bring him offerings from my ‘store cupboard’, and without such gifts of appeasement I just might come a cropper and be devoured by him. 

Considering my previous two blogs about the real wild enemy who does seek to devour us, I know in my heart that my loving heavenly Father does not want to devour me but keep me safe. I need that knowledge to penetrate to my very being so that my thoughts and actions reflect that truth.

It occurs to me that it’s incredible that He has enough confidence in me to ‘sleep’, trusting that I will not betray him, and yet I often lie awake at night trying to work out ways of ‘fixing’ things in my life so that I and my family will conform to his expectations – or hopes – for us...not trusting him to fix things as only he can do.

Come to me, he invites us, everyone who is weary and bearing a heavy burden, and I will give you rest, give you peace, give you a break. My prayer for myself, and for us all, is that I will deepen my trust in Him so that I can lie down and sleep in peace, knowing that He is near, protecting, guarding, and loving me – not for how well I’m ‘fixing’ things but for trusting him to fix them.

Connect and Trust

I read Psalm 22 this morning, which is so familiar because many of the phrases were wrung from the depths of Jesus’ soul as he hung in agony on the cross (for you and me). The commentator reflected that difficulties come uninvited and are unwelcome, stripping us of the frivolous and taking us to the core of who we are. And in that place, we have a choice. We can connect with God in a deeper way or we can do it on our own, kicking and screaming all the way.

The thought resonated with me as I tackle various issues involving my mom’s care. Sometimes I am kicking and screaming all the way. I can feel all alone. I can feel frustrated, heart-broken, because I am so far away I can’t physically go and do things for her. I can feel anxious about the costs. I can stress about my own confusion over insurance matters.

Or I can connect with God in a deeper way and trust him. I can let him walk Mom home, and join him on the road.

Jesus gave us the ultimate example of trusting God in a deep way, right through the worst trials and temptations of his life on earth. He doesn’t forsake us as we walk through the difficulties. In fact, the difficulties are opportunities to draw nearer to him and know his peace.

Be still and know that I am God. I heard him say that to my very soul yesterday. He says it again today. I’m going to be still, still in the midst.

Soaring

A brief flirtation with Pilates taught me that before I bend or stretch or twist or turn, I need to strengthen my core. I found the concept pretty hard as it is basically an invisible action which can only be described. I can’t see what’s going on. I never quite knew if I was doing it right or not. 

‘Those that wait on – hope in – the Lord will renew their strength.’ The recipe for strengthening my spiritual core can be equally as hard to follow. How long do I wait? How do I wait? How do I keep my hope up? I can’t see what’s going on.

Linger longer is really my mantra. I am sorely tempted to pop up and get on with my day if I don’t immediately ‘get’ something I think is from God in my prayer or Bible reading time. 

Lingered longer this morning, thinking of yesterday’s blog and the visual aid of water-based exercise done on floating mats. It occurred to me that if I were to be doing such exercises, I would imagine that if/when my neighbouring exerciser plunged off her mat into the pool, the waves would chop and sway and threaten to pitch me into the water as well. 

When someone near me is struggling to keep afloat and occasionally falls in, I need to be extra vigilant in maintaining my core spirituality strength. Not just to keep my own wings dry, but also to inspire others that in God, everything is possible.

He never lets go. As we trust in him, we will soar on wings like eagles. Not just cling on but soar. Not like sparrows but like eagles.

I have a funny feeling that although I need to make an effort, it is God who is doing all the work.

Seasonal Surprises

Summer in Scotland is notoriously unpredictable. Usually there are some weeks of warmth interspersed through days of wet and cool, but this year has remained so cool that our electric underblanket is still in use, as is the winter duvet. And the other night I lit a fire. In July. 

It’s not what even those acquainted with the oxymoron ‘Scottish summer’ expect. 

I’m in late summer/autumn of life, a season when I would expect that life would take on a more sedate pace. A time for exploring those postponed passions – reading, writing, travelling – a time for reflection and peace. 

Yet life is hectic and its pace leaves me slumping into bed each night wondering what I’ve been doing to make me so tired. I’m in a sandwich situation with cares for my elderly mother and the first grandchild now on the scene. I’m still trying to carve out time to write; I enjoy the garden and have to keep up the house; there are Bible studies and prayer groups and family gatherings and neighbours. 

It can be challenging to be grateful for the damp days of a Scottish summer, but I’ve also been in the drought days of a southern California summer this year and I know which is more sustainable. 

It can be challenging to be grateful for the demands on my time at this stage of life, but I am. I am so grateful for family and friends and neighbours who we love and who love us and who want to spend time with us. Maybe one of the reasons I’ve not been a very prolific writer over the years is that I veer towards choosing relationships over choosing to sit in a garret writing that great novel which must still be in me (since the others still await publishers). 

When my winter arrives and words are carved on my tombstone, I prefer that they will mention loving relationships than writing masterpieces.

I’ve been thinking today about Proverbs 3:5: Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. So I entrust the great muddle of life to the Lord, and give up on understanding it!