Frozen!

 

Frozen flakes sweep across the field, and as the light begins to fade and the temperature drops even more, they begin to slip into the dips and cracks of the ground and accumulate. A soft blanket of snow smooths out the sharp contours of the ploughed park, and if this keeps up overnight, by morning we may not see any shadows or stones, only a pillowy white softness stretching between the barbed wire fences.

It reminds me of the Lord’s love. Jesus suffered and died for the sins of the whole world, and as someone taught me, sin is sin, whether it is a heinous crime, or a juicy bit of gossip. All took him to the cross. And from the cross, the love in his eyes fell like the snow, levelling us. As the Scots say, ‘we’re all Jock Tamsin’s bairns’.

We are all God’s children.

I am humbled. I praise God for his mercy and grace, and I pray that he would open all of our hearts to see with his eyes, forgive as we have been forgiven, and be kind.

Steady ...

 

The blackbird perches on a fragile twig of the rowan tree. She bounces and sways in the wind, thrusting her beak forwards towards a juicy berry. The berry jerks away as her beak pierces and penetrates it, and as she repeats the motion many times, I surmise that every effort is met with minimal success.

She is not grounded.

Jesus told a story of a house built on a rock, able to withstand the fiercest of storms while the house built on sand collapsed.

Jesus also invited us to feed on him. With feet planted today on the Rock of ages, I am able to feed on the word of God and be satisfied. Not just satisfied, but refreshed, renewed, and enabled to go into my day, whatever it holds, rejoicing in the One who is my hiding place and my home.

 

Counting the Cost

 

Counting the cost.

Mom’s care home uses a point system to determine what she pays. Every detail of care she needs is rated by points, every point carrying a monetary value. The assessment form is multiple choice, and not every task offers an option which fits Mom’s needs.

The result of her fall and broken hip is not felt simply in the diminished life she can now lead due to physical pain and weakness. The cost of care has skyrocketed, necessitating that we review options. If there are any.

Jesus spoke about counting the cost with reference to following him. He taught that it’s important to know in advance what a course of action might cost so that you can judge whether or not it’s affordable. Sound advice. But in elderly care, there are too many variables to be able to accurately count the cost in advance. Length of life, cost of living rises, changes of facility management from a family-run business to a corporation eager to maximise returns to shareholders and directors.

So here we are, in a tight situation, as are so many these days. In a sense, it’s a blessed place to be, because I don’t really know what to do so I am doing what I do know: leaning in to Jesus. Spending more time with him. Praising more: speaking Jesus over my family, my Mom, this care home and the underpaid, beleaguered staff left to deal with clients’ families. Remembering scriptures of strength and encouragement, like Psalm 91: She who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust.’

He has gathered me under his wing; he has Mom under his wing. One step at a time. One day at a time. In this situation, I am experiencing the peace beyond understanding which only God gives.

But I am not complacent. I am actively seeking the way forward, but from a position of faith in the God who knows the end from the beginning. Who, when I have made my plans, intervenes to direct my steps.

I am praising the One who died for my sins, for the sins of the whole world.

In this month of Thanksgiving, I have so much gratitude welling up within my heart. I am so grateful to God, who is faithful to his promises, who never leaves nor forsakes any of us.

I am so grateful to my Jesus, who did count the cost, and paid it anyway.

May you, too, know his peace, whatever your circumstances this morning.

 

Lean into the Gardener

 

The voluptuous blooms on their hydrangeas are fading fast, and Emma commented it was time to prune the heads. Even after all these years, I am still a novice in the garden. So she showed me how.

An inch or two below the wilting bloom, you can see the buds forming for next year’s profusion. Cut the old flower head off there, and next year’s show will be amazing, she suggested.

I’ve done it now. We’ll see what happens next year.

My Father is the gardener, Jesus told his friends, … every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, so that it will be even more fruitful.

Pruning is painful. Sharp shears severing aspects of our lives which may have appeared to be flourishing. Buoyant home groups which falter. Spiritual gifts which seem to dry up. Rich relationships which encounter unexpected issues. A path forward which disappears, or is blocked.

The hydrangea is pruned before the winter storms hit. During winter weather, it, like the other plants in the garden, hibernates, regrouping, gathering its strength for the next growing season.

A sabbath rest, a time to be refreshed, strengthened. A time to sharpen our ears for God’s voice.

Simplify. Batten down the hatches, and lean into the Gardener.

 

Drawn to the Light

 

The broken man was drawn to the mountain and its glacier. The cause of his brokenness is not revealed, but as he embraces Mont Blanc and its melting glacier, he encounters a healing power which restores his soul. The healing touch leaves his left hand and forearm forever changed, charged with an inner light which glows warmly in the dark.

This was the story in the French film we watched last night.  

A fitting story during this week of the American election, the results which have broken the hearts of many and left them reeling. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. In the days to come, may we all be drawn constantly to the love of God. May we all be filled with the light of Jesus and the power of the Holy Spirit. Lord, let your healing touch forever change us, those who follow Jesus, so that our lives are charged with an inner, divine light which glows warmly in the dark. May we trust in God as we negotiate whatever is to come.

‘As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more. But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children –’ (Ps 103)

May your righteousness be with our children’s children, empowering and strengthening them. From everlasting to everlasting.

Help us to keep our eyes on you.

Jesus, Jesus over everything

 

The birds are back, gathering at the bird-feeders, filled again after the summer, when they were left empty because there was so much sustenance in the fruits and berries and thriving insect population.

There are times when my spirit is released to feed widely, gathering wisdom from sermons, guidance from fellow-disciples, nuggets of knowledge from devotionals. Other times, I sense a need to just draw in to Jesus.

This morning, I found myself laying my hand on the globe in my prayer window, covering the USA. And I sang out ‘God bless America, land that I love. Stand beside her, and guide her, through the night with the light from above. From the mountains, to the prairies, to the oceans, white with foam: God bless America, my home, sweet, home. God bless America, my home sweet home.’

On this day which is critical for the future of the country, with repercussions for the world, God bless America. What else can I pray?

When I need to snuggle into the Lord, I find I am best able to do that through music, so I went on to the recent praise song from Charity Gayle, I Speak Jesus: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PcmqSfr1ENY

To whom else should we go? Peter asked. You, Jesus, have the words of eternal life.

‘I just want to speak the name of Jesus’ in every voting booth in America today. I just want to speak the name of Jesus into every heart that beats with hatred. I just want to speak the name of Jesus into every spirit that cowers in fear. ‘Break every stronghold, shine through the shadows’ Jesus.

Jesus over fear. Jesus over illness. Jesus over anxiety. Jesus over hatred. Jesus over pride. Jesus over nationalism. Jesus. Jesus.

I trust you to feed us today, Lord Jesus, knowing that your ways are not our ways, and praying that we would all feed on you every day. As the birds need to feed frequently, so I need to feed frequently on you, Lord.

I speak the holy name of Jesus over this hurting world this morning, Lord. Your world. Shine, Jesus, shine, in your disciples today. Shine, Lord. May we bear your image, whatever happens.

Peace. Shalom. In Jesus’ Name.

Break it Up!

 

For the last few days, I’ve been amused by the flock of pheasants harvesting their breakfast from the stubble of the field round our house. I counted over twenty this morning.

When I returned a few hours later, the farmer was just finishing ploughing it up. What are the pheasants going to eat now?, I wondered. Well, they’re all back, and they’ve brought their friends. As I watch them out there, I realise how little I know.  They are probably grateful to the farmer for serving them up a feast of wriggly treats.

‘Break up your unploughed ground,’ Hosea advised. ‘for it is time to seek the Lord, until he comes and showers righteousness on you.’

God doesn’t want to feed us worms, he wants to feed us his life-giving word. But so often, I am too busy, too world-weary, too self-absorbed, too jaded to receive what he has for me. Help me, Lord, to take time to break up my fallow ground, those bits of me which have become hardened and impenetrable. Help me to open myself to you, looking to you for sustenance, encouragement and protection.

 … ‘Because you have depended on your own strength … the roar of battle will rise against your people…’

I depend on you, Jesus. Help me to depend on you fully, and not on my own paltry efforts.