Weeds and Winds and Seeds

 

The ground elder and nettles are in flower. In my prayer window, I watched them be blown and buffeted in blasts of wind.

The seeds, I thought. I don’t like the wind but of course, the seeds need the wind to spread and propagate more of their kind.

I think of some of the many inspirational believers I’ve been privileged to know in my lifetime. Followers of Jesus who persevered – or are persevering – in their faith despite the gales whipping around them. How far, how wide, the seed of faith is spread when believers hang on to Jesus during the blasts of the enemy! How beautiful and fragrant the blossoms of such flowering faith in Jesus Christ our Saviour and Lord!

I am grateful, so thankful for those I know who, in hard times, train their gaze on Jesus as the winds of life whine and shriek and roar.  May you, o Lord, continue to strengthen and support all those whose lives are hammered by the storms of life today. May I emulate them in whatever I may face today, clinging on not just with grim determination but with the joy of the Lord inspiring me.

I am drawn to Isaiah 63 v 1: Who is this who comes from Edom, from the city of Bozrah, with his clothing stained red? Who is this in royal robes, marching in his great strength? ‘It is I, the Lord, announcing your salvation! It is I, the Lord, who has the power to save!’

I pray that those who feel themselves faltering in the storm will be encouraged and strengthened knowing that the Lord has the power to save, and is coming in great strength.

My thoughts return to the elder and the nettles. Weeds. Pernicious weeds with tough, pervasive roots.

Yes, the seeds of the enemy are also blowing in our world today. May the Lord help me to uproot them from my own heart, mind and spirit. May I be quick to identify any new seedlings of doubt or fear and wheak them out before they can grow and propagate worldly thoughts or deeds any further. May I have the courage to tackle the weeds of hatred and injustice wherever I see them. Amen.

 

The Divine Fragrance

 

As I entered the kitchen through the back door, I could smell the beautiful aroma of lilac coming from the vase of flowers in the dining room. The scent is heavenly, pervading more than just the room in which they are displayed.

Fill me with your Holy Spirit again today, Lord Jesus, so that I may carry the fragrance of your love, mercy and grace everywhere I go. May your aroma be so powerful that it spreads into places and touches lives beyond my immediate proximity, beyond my awareness.

May I be totally surrendered to you, bottling in my very being the beauty of your divine being, like a precious perfume … not hiding the stink of rot and decay which comes from the enemy’s work, but banishing it altogether. May my life exude the fragrance of faith in the God whose love is unconditional, whose justice is right, and whose peace is everlasting.

Be glorified today, Lord, throughout your creation.

Torn Fabric

 

It is barely 4 am, but here in northeastern Scotland the land is light already with the fore-glow of dawn. I draw into my prayer window and close my eyes. A rectangular shape: a womb: a tomb: a loom weaving the warp and weft of life according to the genius of the master designer.

Yesterday we buried our precious Indy, a quirky wee cat who brought us such joy and laughter over nearly 18 years. Struggling to let go.

Sadness and sorrow everywhere. Surely this was not part of the plan. Brokenness and pain. Torn threads and frayed edges. Moths chewing holes in the fabric of life.

Sigh. I’m tired.

Maranatha. Come, Lord Jesus. One day: no more tears, no more pain, no more sorrowing separations. Other places, other losses, deeper by far. Come to the broken places everywhere, Lord, the battlefields around the globe.

I’m out of gas. Coasting into the gas station. ‘Fill ‘er up, Lord.’ Fill me again with your Holy Spirit.

I sit, serenaded now by the blissful tune of many blackbirds, greeting the new day with hope. With hope, faith and trust in the overcoming love of the grand designer. Help me to find my voice to sing a song to the Saviour I know and love.

Jesus. All our hope in you is founded. Jesus. Name above all names. Beautiful Saviour. Risen Lord.

Both near and far off

 

Yes, Janie assured me, sitting beside me at my laptop as she explained and fixed a few things. When you save a document, it saves both to the hard drive of the laptop, and to the cloud.

To the one nearby and to the one far off.

When Jesus saves us, he saves us for this present time, so that we can walk through the troubles we face in his peace, full of joy and hope for the future. While we walk, we are also sitting already at the right hand of God as we abide in Jesus, so we have become sort of divine hybrids with gifts and abilities coming directly from God himself.

And we are also saved for all eternity, to live with God in his recreated world.

All because of the work of the cross. Praise Jesus.

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.