Glorious Sunset Reflected

Last night I captured a glorious sunset on my phone camera, and assuming that I have mastered the art of Dropbox just now I am going to put it in here.

God just seems to go a bit wild sometimes with the glories of the skies in Scotland. Kind of like he’s showing off but I certainly do appreciate it. As I turned back to the house last night, I realised that the glories of the sunset were mirrored in one of our dining room windows. So I took a picture of that too, and hopefully my Dropbox skills will not fail me in a moment to share this with you.

It made me think that when we open ourselves up fully to the glorious Creator, we reflect something of his glory. Open up today, and see what happens.

Dust to dust

Dust to dust. Genesis describes how God formed humans from the dust of the ground.

John 9 is a wonderful recounting of a meeting between Jesus and a man born blind. Jesus heals his blindness by spitting on the ground, on the dust, and mixing up a muddy paste which he then smears across the blind man’s eyes. When the blind man bathes his eyes in the pool Jesus directs him to, he is no longer blind. He can see clearly.

We are dust, but when mixed with ‘divine spittle’ – the Holy Spirit of Jesus – we can become a sort of poultice which enables others to see clearly. God has, remarkably, chosen to work with us to bring wholeness to the world. Our partnership with God is a beautiful, creative, amazing gift.

We just need to be willing to be used by God.

Fun

This is just the craziest thing yet. Last week, one of my stud earrings dropped out somewhere and was lost. I searched the places I could, issued a call to all to be vigilant, and gave up on it. 

Days later, after many a fire in the fireplace and many a sweep-up of the ash, Don called out to me. ‘What’s this?’ It was my stud earring, lying in amongst some ash on the hearth. Hmm. 

I might have put that down to poor housekeeping, concluding I’d just missed it all those other mornings. Except that this is the second lost and found earring story I’ve had in a few weeks.

The other was more remarkable. We’d done a drama at church, involving costumes and head coverings. I didn’t realize until we got home that I was missing a favourite earring of mine. I searched the costumes and head coverings. I returned to church and searched the changing areas. Don went back and looked under the fridge and in other out-of-the-way spaces. No earring.

A couple of days later, when I opened the bedroom curtains, there was the earring. Just sitting there on the window ledge. What? How?

I’m reading a book about Epicurus and the art of growing old. The author makes an observation that we have largely lost the art of fun for the sake of ... nothing but fun. We always need to have a reason for what we are doing, a way of justifying our laughter and joy. He disagrees and asserts that especially in old age, we have more time to just enjoy ourselves without needing to justify it. Just play games without needing to win. Just share a coffee with a friend and laugh without solving the world’s problems or feel guilty that we’ve wasted time. 

I think perhaps God has been having some fun with me with my earrings.

This is the Day

Sunshine out the east-facing window; snowing out the north-facing window. Bit of blue sky out the south-facing window. 

Must be in Scotland.

Whitewashed drive, road and fields. Birds clustering on the peanut feeders, hopping along the ground. Dependent on our taking the time to fill the feeders.

Rhythm of seasons. Rhythm of life. 

One day is highly stressed for one person. The same day is earmarked for meeting friends and relaxing for another. Some people are working hard. Others are up at the Lecht snowboarding or skiing. 

This is the day the Lord has made. We may not have the freedom to decide how to spend it (if we are in work or raising young ones) but we all have the freedom to decide how we will embrace all that comes our way today. 

In John 9, as Jesus walked along he saw a man. There were probably lots of people around but we are told he saw a man. Then we are told he was a man born blind. Jesus sees the individual. He sees to the heart of who we are rather than focusing on the problems we may be grappling with. He asks what we want help with and is ready to act when we tell him.

This is the day the Lord has made. I choose to be glad and rejoice in it, and be honest with God about my needs, and trust him to help me.

Survival

Everything is blending into a white mist as the snow drifts out of leaden skies onto grey-green fields. 

The birds hop hopefully round the empty bird feeders, but I can’t get the peanut feeder open to refill it! Their lives may depend on a few peanuts and I can’t get it open.

Will have to pop out and buy another container. Can’t wait til someone returns and opens it for me. 

 The fat pheasant can probably survive but not so sure about those tiny birds. A fine line between survival and death I would imagine.

So important to fill up every morning with the good things of God, so that when we brush up against the spiritually starving, there is something nourishing in us for them to feed on. Otherwise they’ll go look elsewhere and may fill up on junk spirituality.

Fat Pheasants

A cohort of four scrawny cock pheasants pecked their way across the field just outside my window. Vibrant, rich plumage drew my admiration. How could anyone shoot such a creature?
Suddenly they grew nervous, one dashing ahead and the others scattering but remaining in a fairly tight group. They peered round warily and then resumed their pecking.
Two things on their pea brains, I thought. Eating and safety. Nearly spring though, when three things will occupy their thinking.
Later, washing up from breakfast, I noticed the usual visitor who comes daily to pick up the scraps dropped from the bird feeders on the Chinese Rowan tree. Nothing scrawny about him. He knows where to go to get fed and he goes there daily.
We all have a choice. We can peck around through the world's wisdom, getting the odd bit of nourishment but remaining spiritually scrawny. Or we can sit at God's table and fatten up on his word.

Through the Keyhole

As we prayed this morning, I found myself looking through a giant keyhole, the kind that takes an ancient castle key. I was looking into a room of palatial grandeur. Gilt and carvings; crystal  chandeliers and elaborate ceiling coving. Highly-polished hardwood floors and Persian carpets of colour and intricate design. French mahogany couches and chairs, upholstered in creamy brocades. Porcelain clocks.

Voluptuous beauty, reminding me of Versailles or the Hermitage. Breathtaking. 

Jesus said he goes ahead to prepare a place for us. There was nobody in this extraordinary room. Yet.

Interesting that I was looking through a keyhole. Jesus gave Peter the keys of the kingdom of heaven, going on to give him powers to bind and loosen. Your kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. Prayer is the key we all have.

Through the keyhole. The television programme invites viewers to snoop round someone’s home and deduce what sort of person lives there and guess who it might be. 

The room I saw this morning is the room of royalty. We are sons and daughters of the King of Kings. We are invited in.

I don’t think of the prayer picture just as a promise of what is to come, but as an encouragement to step into the Kingdom now and to open the door wide so that others may enter too.