Never gives up

Unseasonably warm weather in the northeast of Scotland. Despite all the redecorating jobs indoors, I dallied outside to clear away some of autumn’s dead leaves and branches. A noise broke through my thought-processes. The sound of many hooves, on the move. The occasional lowing as most of a herd of cows wandered up the road in search of food.

What do I know about herding cows? Enough to know that it’s harder than it looks.

By the time I reached the end of the drive, a farmer approached in his tractor. They weren’t his cows, but he knew whose they were. A few loud yells from him and the herd turned and headed back to where they belonged. The movement of his tractor kept them retracing their steps.

‘They’re hungry,’ he explained. ‘They’ve been left in the same field all winter and there’s no more to be eaten. They need to be moved.’

He expressed some frustration with the other farmer.

The steadfast love of the Lord shows itself in the unending mercies which come our way. He never leaves us in the desert without giving us food. Even during wintry seasons of life, he provides. We never need to break out in search of more.

And yet often we do. And the Lord’s grace and mercy ushers us back into safe territory where we can graze on his life-giving word.

I am profoundly grateful that he never gives up on me.

No short cuts

Redecorating. Never as straightforward as one imagines at the outset. Having replaced most of the lath and plaster walls with new plasterboard, we left a section along the old staircase. Now we find it is crumbling, won’t hold the paint, nor wallpaper, so … sigh … I guess it has to come out and be replaced, too. Another unwelcome delay.

God advises us to confess our sins to him. To rid ourselves of the old stuff because, no matter how hard we try to hide it, any camouflage will soon flake away or fall off and our old stuff will be revealed. What is done in the dark will be revealed in the light.

The old adage of keeping short accounts with God is so true.

There are no short-cuts to relationship with God. And there are no short-cuts to redecorating an old house. Boo.

Squashed or saved?

I saved the worst until nearing the end of our redecorating. Today, I donned rubber gloves and cautiously opened the attic door. Nothing scurried away, but draped from the ceiling, across the coat rail, round the light bulb, was a gossamer matting woven over years.

Who knew spider webs could be tough enough to resist the pull of a Dyson? Gingerly, I lifted out a couple of old coats, matted with cobwebs. Suddenly they were alive as the eight-legged beasts who spun such traps scrambled to escape. I’m sorry … mmm, no, not really. First instinct. Squash them. 

And squash them I did. Three or four, though undoubtedly, lurking in pockets or down dark sleeves, there remain one, two or even a few more.

God didn’t don rubber gloves when he came to deal with us. He came as a baby, vulnerable and naked. The webs of deceit we weave, strong as we think they are, disappear in the puff of his breath. Fearful of his wrath, running to hide from his almighty power, we are instead overtaken by the power of his love, drawing us inexorably into his loving embrace.

I deserve to be squashed, but instead, I stand redeemed by his life. Amazing grace.

Scottish Skies

Scottish skies. Expansive and ever-changing, as if the Artist is so excited to communicate but just can’t limit himself to one thought. I lingered, gazing out as the blackening clouds divided golden light below from a rosy hue glowing above. Nothing is still. Nothing is static.

Only the Artist never changes. He is faithful and constant and full of love, rejoicing in his creation. It’s amazing.

Warning

A warning light pops up, indicating the laptop’s battery needs recharging. A simple matter of connecting cables and turning it on at the wall.

Life is full. I can’t keep up if I’m running on empty. The Lord is my light and my salvation. As I gaze at him in quiet and at rest, so my spirit is refreshed and revived.

Diffused fragrance and peace

A terracotta ring with a doughnut hole in the middle. When a fragrant oil is added, and it is placed on an electric light bulb, the heat from the bulb diffuses the fragrance into the room.

It was recommended recently for sinusitis: put menthol crystals in the channel and the pungent odour will fill the room and help clear congestion.

When we stay close to the light, he fills the empty channel of our hearts with his presence, and the fragrance draws others. May I live close to Jesus today, so that his beautiful fragrance revives and refreshes others through me.

Make new friends, but keep the old

One is silver, the other is gold.

Pine trees stretch high, silhouetted against a bright winter’s sun. The wind has risen again and moans in the chimneys – chimneys which will be swept clean tomorrow. We’ve waited two months for the sweep to arrive in our neighbourhood.

I could smell soot recently, a sure sign that it’s time to get Dick van Dyke and his friends in. I doubt there will be much singing or leaping around on the rooftops tomorrow, but hopefully when the wind whistles down it won’t carry a scent of soot.

I’ve just had a refreshing time over coffee with a much younger friend. We gossiped God. I feel like the soot that can clog me up has been swept away, so that the wind of the Spirit can blow on through and out to a tired world.

Praise the Lord for old and new friends, especially those in the family of God.

Humble Pie

Just nine o’clock in the morning and I’ve already eaten a slice of humble pie. Last night I sent an email which said something that needed saying, but rather than wording it graciously I spiked it with one or two sharp criticisms. So I have apologised.

I don’t know the woman I was writing to, but she is a former high school classmate (out of a class of 1200). She is organising a class reunion and had chosen a subject line which I found alarming and insensitive in light of the world we live in.

It wasn’t anything important. A high school reunion. I won’t be able to go anyway. On reflection, though, this poor woman is striving to make something happen for a lot of retired people scattered across the globe, and my remarks were not helpful.

Forgive me, Lord. Give me grace, Lord Jesus. Grace to speak the truth in love. Grace to be part of your kingdom, on earth as it is in heaven. Grace to live a supernatural life, inspired by your Spirit.

New Directions

New road layout ahead.

Oops, I drove right past the exit onto the long-awaited AWPR. Ended up on a long and windy road I kind of knew, in order to get home.

I might have been frustrated or cross, but instead I just plodded on and arrived a bit later than planned, admiring the views I’d have otherwise missed.

Life can be like that. A new challenge presents itself. Our route changes, and we think it will save us time or improve our circumstances but instead it delays us and seems retrograde.

Jesus is the way. Sometimes he takes us in new directions, which may seem exciting and full of promise but then seem to disappoint, or fill us with apprehension. Sticking with him on his way is always the best choice though. Wherever he goes.

And next time I should recognise the exit.

Whose line?

We used to watch the improv comedy ‘Whose line is it anyway?’ There was a scenario they used to build comedy which involved two people. One was blindfolded, embracing the other from behind, arms wrapped round the waist of the other person. As that person gave directions, the blindfolded one had to perform some sort of task, such as making sausage rolls. It required clear directions, understanding, and dexterity. It could be hilarious.

The Christian life is like that, though the result is not always comedic. I have my arms wrapped round Jesus’ waist. My face is pressed into his back and I can’t see what’s coming. He gives me clear directions of where he wants my feet to take ‘us’, what he wants my hands to engage in. All I need to do is listen carefully and obey cheerfully. That’s all.

I am totally dependent on him. I need him to guide me. I need him to give me clear directions. I need him to give me open ears and a willing heart and a spirit that doesn’t grow tired or weary because it depends on him for life. Life in all its fullness.

Whatever the situation today, my arms are secure round my Saviour and my ears are open. I know my limitations, and they are many. I know his limitless power.

So grateful.