In one of the Paddington Bear story books I used to read to my children, the family takes Paddington to the seaside. He is told that the air there is special, and when he sees someone doing deep breathing exercises he 'fixes him with a cold stare', fearful that this rare air is going to be used up. Before leaving the seaside to return to London, he captures a sample of the air in a jar.
Capturing the atmosphere. Filling a jar with something special, a sort of matrix which is precious and carries unique memories: we are those jars, those clay pots as the Bible would say. God invites us to wait on him so that we are strengthened and renewed, so that we are joyful and our fears are replaced by faith and trust. The more we wait, the more we, as temples of his Holy Spirit, are filled with him, the less room there is for the money changers who jockey for attention and disrupt our peace.
I had the joy of worshiping with Mhairi in her church yesterday. The jar within me, the temple of the Holy Spirit, was topped up as I did my deep spiritual breathing exercises there, inspired by the message and the worship. Now it is Monday morning, and I am reminded that this, too, is the day that the Lord has made. As I pick up the threads and walk through this day trying to help my dear Mom with the nuts and bolts of her life, I will wait on the Lord and keep the jar filled with him, so that those anxieties which crouch at the periphery of my being will have no way in. He is the Lord and he reigns.
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