Easter Eggs

The Lindt Easter egg looks beautiful. Wrapped in gold foil, nestled above small red Lindor eggs, a moulded plastic cover holds all in place inside an outer cardboard wrap. (This isn’t going to be a rant about the environmental impact of all our Easter egg packaging, though it does make my heart sag…)

The egg looks lovely. I know it will taste delicious, from past experience. But until I open the box, extract the packaging and unwrap the egg, and actually bite into it … it’s all theory, memory, probability.

The cross does not look lovely. It’s an instrument of torture of the most cruel and barbaric kind. But the man who hung there … Jesus, who triumphed over death and rose from the grave … he is beautiful. I can look at the story, and see how beautiful his love and grace and mercy are, but unless I engage with him, unless I enter into the intimate relationship he invites me into, unless I confess that he is Lord … it’s all theory. A nice story, but one without impact on my life.

Taste and see that the Lord is good. Better even than the Lindt Easter egg.

Bread

Does anything evoke well-being as much as the smell of homemade bread? I was blessed to receive a bread-maker for Christmas. Our house is too cold for bread to rise in the normal way, but this bread-maker produces delicious results effortlessly.

We have noticed that the bread is so filling, we eat less than commercially produced products.

Jesus is the bread of life, fragrant and satisfying. His word feeds us. We don’t need much, just enough to chew over.

Road Closed. Diversion

An early dental appointment had me joining the rush hour traffic into Aberdeen this morning. On final approach, I encountered a Diversion sign and found myself headed south instead of east. Never confident finding my way around the ancient, winding streets of Aberdeen, I prayed for help. A diversion sign appeared – not supernaturally but in metal at the side of the road, guiding me back to the street I’d had to leave. God was a step ahead of me, even in the mundane.

Walking in faith entails trusting God to guide me when the road ahead is blocked. Trusting God to guide me when new challenges present themselves. Trusting. Faith, not fear.

I lift my eyes to the hills and am reminded that my help is in Jesus. I need no other advocate.

DIY

Apparently, in the wider world, Easter weekend is now known as DIY weekend. Do it yourself.

The irony is inescapable. Jesus did it all, because we can’t do it ourselves.

The cross still stands

The cross still stands.

A few years ago, this was a line from a chorus we sang in Christian worship. Today, despite the intense conflagration in Notre Dame last night, a plain cross gleamed from the depths of the damage.

The cross, a reminder of Jesus’ pain and sacrifice but overwhelmingly a reminder of his victory and the glory that is his. We bear our crosses but we don’t bear them alone; he takes the full weight of our struggles if we lean on him. And beyond the cross lies the victory in him. By his grace. Through his love. In his power.

Jesus. King Jesus. Hosanna. Hallelujah. We worship you.

Jiggling

In Apple’s word processing package, Pages, when you want to move or shift a file you do something to start everything jiggling. Once the action is over, everything resumes its stationary position.

Sometimes life feels as if everything is jiggling. At times like that, I look to God to make the changes, so that we can once again settle into routines of some sort.

God is faithful. But sometimes the jiggling goes on longer than I like…

Cul de sacs of the Mind

Living in a cul de sac is a safety feature when raising children. No through traffic means fewer chances of terrible accidents.

Cul de sacs in the mind can feel safe. Familiar. It’s easy to hunker down in a pattern of thinking. God, however, offers to transform our minds.  To restore our thinking so that his light can blaze through and fill our minds, bodies and spirits with his heavenly light.

Today I ask God to break through the cul de sacs in my mind and fill me with his light and life, joy and peace. Freedom in Christ. Hallelujah!

Thy Kingdom Come

Thy kingdom come. Looking out my prayer window this morning, I think perhaps it has.

A clear blue sky, no wind, daffodils bobbing gently in a light breeze. The birds chattering and singing continuously. No traffic on the road. Peace.

Most of the time, most of us don’t live in such a place. Most of the time we are navigating stormy seas of one type or another. Relationships, circumstances, financial challenges, bereavements, anxieties. And even though I gaze out at such peace, my life just now reflects the tempest rather than the calm.

Jesus invites us to bring all our anxieties to him, and he will give us that peace which passes all understanding. Somehow in the midst of wild storms, we can walk as though under blue skies hearing birds chirping happily. I know this to be true; it still takes will power and faith to claim it moment by moment.

May you find such faith today, and may I, too.

Stuff

Stuff.

Our house heaves with stuff. Things that remind me of moments, magical and poignant. Things that once were useful, and might one day be useful again. Things that have been left behind as technology sweeps on.

Audio tapes: a drawerful. Video tapes: thought I’d cleared away, only to discover more in the attic. Vinyl records we still play. I had a great time organising them as I cleaned the sitting room, reminding myself of singers and albums I used to listen to by the hour, now mostly gathering dust.

Things are a blessing. They can also be a time-waster, as we try to make sense of what’s worth keeping, what isn’t. I can’t say that I’m persuaded that it’s effective to clasp something to my chest and decide whether or  not it brings me joy. I can’t say that furniture polish will ever satisfy that criteria.

Jesus counselled his friends to step out without a purse or a change of clothes. He advised us not to worry about food or clothes. He told a story about a man who built a barn to hold all of his stuff, only to lose his life that night.

May I prayerfully review my stuff, and make wise decisions.

Captured

I captured a picture from the prayer window last night. The sunset streaked the sky with rosy pinks and purples. The yellow daffodils dotted the foreground. The larch, beginning to hint at green buds coming, towered in the middle.

Only just now, looking at it, I realise I didn’t capture it at all. It was much more beautiful in ‘real time’.  A reminder to live in the moment and not succumb to the frenzy to capture every moment digitally. It can’t be done.

Everlasting Screed

The joiner was in bright and early to pour some ‘levelling screed’ before returning tomorrow to put the wooden floor on top of it. Without the screed, the new floor might wobble and break as pressure is put on it.

Underneath are the everlasting arms. God is the great ‘levelling screed’. Without his arms underneath me, I might very well wobble and break under the various pressures falling on me at the moment.

I am so grateful for the everlasting love of God. I am so grateful for the unconditional love of the Cross, of the terrible cost to Jesus of our sins and his willingness to pay the price for us. I am so grateful for the Holy Spirit, that small voice within which quietens and strengthens me. So grateful.

The Path Unclear

The yellows of spring popped out at me as I walked a familiar path I’ve not walked for awhile. Gorse beginning to blossom. Wild daffodils. Primula. Only the birds disturbed the quiet. Two geese chatting as they flew overhead. Pigeons cooing from deep in the woods. The staccato tap of a woodpecker seeking his breakfast.

I turned down a path but found it blocked by a section of wire fence, put there by a farmer guiding his cows into the correct field. A few hundred feet further and my way was totally blocked by the tops of two pine trees, broken and felled by a strong wind.

I was seeking guidance. I heard no voice, but a way forward was blocked. Sometimes the path through life is not very clear. I can’t see the horizon. I can only listen for my Saviour’s voice and take one step at a time. Totally dependent.

May I rest in the ‘not-knowing’, secure in the love of the Saviour.