Nourishing words

 

Watering the sweet peas, I swung the watering can round to fill the bird bath, then carried on round the garden. We have had some rain, but perhaps the puddles are dried up now and the birds may need a drink, I thought vaguely.

As I moved on round to other seedlings, Don called out from his vantage point on a garden chair, where he was taking a well-earned rest.

‘Look at the bird in the bird bath!’

There was a small song bird – maybe a chaffinch – energetically bathing in the water. Not a demure drink, but a full-on immersion, wings flapping, tail raising and lowering, head bobbing in the water. A picture of joy, of refreshment, of cleansing and cooling off.

I hadn’t had any particular ideas about which birds might benefit from a bath; which birds might even have been longing for a bath; which birds might not have realised they wanted a bath until the prospect of clean water was lying before them.

The words of God may be a bit like that bird-bath, cleansing, bringing refreshment, restoring hope, shining light, conveying peace.

God is love. Jesus died for the sins of the whole world. The Spirit is poured out into the lives of all who ask, so that they may be empowered to live out and to share the truth in this post-truth era. When the daily diet of dire news can draw us to despair, God offers food that nourishes and renews us.

I pray that the words I write today might comfort, encourage, console and strengthen someone today.

 

A Sparkler on a Dark Night

 

A sparkler on a dark night, sending showers of white-hot light spraying into the near-atmosphere, dispelling darkness, raising smiles and ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’.

A windmill, kids’ whirligig stuck in the white sand of a beach, picking up the rising wind and whirling, faster and faster.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

The wind blows where it will. The sound as of a rushing wind drew the crowds in the street around the upper room, and as they gathered, Peter told them who they were being drawn to.

May our gracious Lord Jesus pour out His Holy Spirit in power now and always, wherever he wishes. May the light of Jesus Christ blaze through the darkness in his world today. I pray that churches round the world, gathering on Pentecost Sunday, will be blessed, delighted, surprised even as the Spirit comes in power.

Receive the Holy Spirit, Jesus told his disciples, breathing onto, breathing into them. And they were empowered to witness to their experience of the goodness, grace and mercy and love, of God for the whole world.

Wind of the Spirit

 

A fine mist is sweeping across the fields and gardens, as if a global gardener is using a fine sprayer to provide moisture for her growing plants. The sky is seamlessly grey; the hills hidden from sight. Not my ideal day.

And yet, I can’t help but smile listening to the joyful song of the blackbird. Spring offers sounds not heard at other times of year, songs of hope and expectation. The cuckoo’s crazy cry breaks in a few times, nothing like as musical as the blackbird but raising a smile as well.

I took a sample of the brown, curling leaves on one of our hydrangeas to the expert at the garden centre yesterday, fearing the plant is succumbing to a disease. No, he assured me. Frost and cold wind damage. It should recover on its own, when warmer weather at last arrives.

I think perhaps I have a touch of frost and cold wind damage. The news and other sad situations can steal my usual buoyancy and curl my inner resilience. Encouraging to know that as I wait on the Lord, asking for a fresh filling of his Holy Spirit, I don’t need to wait for outer conditions to improve. In his loving embrace, my withered senses will recover.

Waiting. As I wait for the warm winds of the Holy Spirit to revive me, may I rest in your unconditional love, Lord Jesus. Wind, wind, blow on me. Wind, wind, set me free. Wind, wind, my Father sends the blessed Holy Spirit.

On Tiptoe

 

On tiptoe.

It was Christmas Eve, many years ago now. (spoiler alert) Don, dressed in his Santa Claus costume, had just delivered selection packs to the three little girls of dear friends of ours. Striding back towards our little white mini metro, he glanced up and saw two young children peering out of an upstairs window of a house across the street.

Their eyes were big and their jaws were slack as they spied the one they were waiting for. ‘Santa’ waved and, relieved that he had bought extra selection packs, walked up to their front door to deliver these trifles to the children waiting so eagerly, on tiptoe.

I realise this morning that my waiting stance is not eager and on tiptoe. I often wait with – if not dread, then with resignation – for the next bad news to drop. A new revelation of wrong-doing by a prominent politician or church leader. A new threat of invasion or violence. A new outbreak of disease or confusing insurance claim for Mom.

Paul writes to the Romans, (and I love this translation in The Passion version): ‘The entire universe is standing on tiptoe, yearning to see the unveiling of God’s glorious sons and daughters! For against its will the universe itself has had to endure the empty futility resulting from the consequences of human sin. But now, with eager expectation, all creation longs for freedom from its slavery to decay and to experience with us the wonderful freedom coming to God’s children.’

The wonderful freedom!

Jesus Christ has set us free from that enslavement to hang-dog resignation and despair. I know this, and once again I step, intentionally, into the freedom he has bought for me. I sense hope rising within me as I step out of the darkness and into the light. I look up, my spirit on tiptoe.

This week will culminate in our remembrance and celebration of Pentecost, and I determine, with God’s help, to walk towards this glorious day on tiptoe, in expectation that God is eager to do it again, to bless each of us with the gift of his Holy Spirit as we posture ourselves to receive all he has for us.

I pray this morning for Christians all over the world to surrender their despair and remember who it is we follow, waiting on tiptoe in anticipation for what Jesus will do in individual hearts, minds and spirits as he blesses his church universal with another outpouring of his Holy Spirit.

This is the day the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be glad in it.

Mistaken Identity

 

The band gathered for the final worship song, one of my favourites. Holy Forever.

I noticed our centenarian across the aisle. I thought he was staring at me but no, turned out he was intently eyeing the teenage guy beside me. We began to worship, and then I was jostled by Don as he moved out of the way for Sandy to squeeze by.

His eye never wavered. He was moving towards the young lad. I stepped back and he shuffled past, grasping Caeden by the arm, smiling broadly. There were some words as the two heads came together – one aged, one young.

I don’t know what was said, but, still holding Caeden’s arm, Sandy turned towards the words on the screen and joined in the worship, reading and singing the words with confidence and conviction. A veteran of the SAS, his faith, like his body, has stood the test of time.

I didn’t get an opportunity to find out what drew Sandy to move across the aisle, but I believe his senility could have confused Caeden with his own son or grandson. With grace and kindness, Caeden responded warmly.

Mistaken identity perhaps. But in the family of Christ, one could say that Caeden is indeed a grandson of Sandy. A spiritual grandson.

As we all worshiped together, I could hear the angels rejoicing at this beautiful tableau. The body of Christ in Banchory.

To God be the glory. Holy forever indeed.

Lift up my eyes

 

The wind is wild. The rain sweeps in, sweeps through, and clears away the clouds so the sun can remind us it is springtime.

I complain, again. It’s too cold. This is like autumn. How can any of our struggling seedlings grow? (How can I grow?)

The world is weary. The news is discouraging. Dire, even. I can focus on my feelings and go down with the ship. Or I can lift my eyes to the hills and remember where our help comes from.

Today I choose to lift my eyes. I choose to sing my songs of praise. I choose to carve out time for creativity, for connection with the divine.

This is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in Him. So many blessings. May my joy in Him spill over into constant prayer for those in trouble, those in deprivation, those in pain, those in grief, those in conflicts, confinements and fear. Those struggling under black clouds of despair. Lord, sweep those clouds away. Let your light shine in the darkest of places, restoring hope, bringing life, destroying the enemy’s efforts.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Perfect Circle

 

Perfect circle. Endless love. It is finished. We are seated in the heavenly realms at the side of our Saviour Jesus Christ. Seated. At peace. Fully trusting in his promises. Knowing he is faithful. By his grace we are saved.

When our words fall short, when our understanding is limited, pictures, colours, designs lift us into places of profound peace and security. So grateful to Elaine for opening up the avenue of art as a conduit to God.

So grateful for the endless creativity of our Lord, who invites us to approach him through so many pathways. May I always be open to explore new ways of worshiping the Lord of all, Jesus my redeemer.