Seeds of Hope

We’ve had our morning exercise. A brisk walk down the road, picking up litter in one bag, shovelling up horse manure in the other.

The litter went into the bin. Lifeless and decayed, sterile and unable to nurture or feed anything.

The horse manure went into the vegetable patch. What passed through the horses and came out as waste is rich in nutrients to boost the growth of new life, new plants.

In these days of lock down, perhaps many are thinking they are days like the litter, long and good for nothing but discarding. But they don’t need to be. They may feel like ****, but there is life and growth in them if only we allow ourselves to learn lessons and build bridges.

On our walk, we met neighbours who we rarely see. Keeping our social distance, we caught up with them. Briefly. I was so touched when one offered to drive to Heathrow if we needed help getting our daughter home. We hardly know him.

There are green shoots of new life everywhere. Words of kindness and encouragement. Offers of help and words of hope. Connections being made online, on the phone, across the garden fence at a safe distance.

Our vegetable garden will look different in a few months’ time. We hope it will be full of fruit and vegetables to feed our bodies. The wintry garden we are living in during isolation will also look different in a few months’ time. If we take care to nurture relationships now, they will be lush and blooming when we can resume social life again. We are already talking about a neighbourhood BBQ.

Jesus came to give us life in the full. We have yet to experience the fullness he died to bring us. But just as spring is the season of hope, so this awful pandemic carries in it the seeds of hope for a more caring, more connected, less broken world.

In this season of Lent, I am more aware than ever of the faithful love of Jesus as he headed towards the cross for me. The horrible cross carried with it seeds of hope and life, as Jesus was fully glorified as he rose again, triumphant over death and disease. He is still triumphant over death and disease, even in this pandemic. Hallelujah.

Trust

Trust.

Noah did everything God said. He built the ark and filled it as instructed. Once inside, God closed the door so nobody else could get in.

Pestilence sweeps across the world, heedless of borders. Borders which are being closed, one after another, leaving refugees without help or hope on the other side. Trapped, with no way in or out.

Across many nations, we have been instructed to self-isolate, so we have gathered our loved ones inside our homes, as instructed by government. Some have pulled up their drawbridges, refusing entry to all those caught outside as the rains come down and the waters rise. Focused on maintaining physical health at all costs, mental and spiritual health are imperilled. We are social beings. We were made to be community, and that means we sometimes take risks to bring others into safety.

Common sense designed the policy. It’s a good one. But God has not closed the door to our homes as he did to the ark. When there are people in need who have no safe haven, he calls us to reach out a hand and bring them in. It is so encouraging during these days to see and read of so many examples of people doing just that.

In these days of turmoil and uncertainty, fear is fed as we hole up and just look after ourselves. Jesus calls us to trust him. To walk on the waters which may roil and rage, our focus on him. To minister to those out in the storm, and to bring them in to the peace which is Jesus.

May we all stay safe as we self-isolate, but also be alert and responsive to the cries for help that reach our ears. Don’t let your hearts be troubled and don’t be afraid, Jesus says. Why? Because he has overcome the world.

Virtual Church

All over the world, we believers congregate virtually, tuning in on YouTube or Zoom, Skype or something else. Some of it is chaotic. Confusing even. We’re not all techno marvels but it was wonderful this morning to connect, to see the smiles of faith family who we love so much and miss.

Having missed the link to the worship before the service, we worshiped in song after. It was so moving and powerful. I sensed that Church is on the move. Together we are moving forward following the light. What was on either side was unclear. Where we were headed was not visible. But the path was alight and we were on it, moving together, as one, making music in our hearts as we praised and loved the Lord with our voices, with our spirits.

So many green shoots are appearing. We just need to keep vigilant and keep moving. We follow the God of hope. We are filled with the spirit of love and power and life. We lift Jesus up, our Saviour and King.

Have a wonderful Sunday.

Scottish Spring

A soft tapping on the window. Tiny white balls bouncing off the bush. Hail. Now it’s turned to a light, windblown snow shower. Ah, springtime in north eastern Scotland.

I was 51^st at the grocery store at 8 am, so waited a minute or two until one person came out. A strict regulation of number of shoppers admitted at any one time. Everyone maintained their distance. Nobody coughed or sneezed. Everyone sanitised; some wore disposable gloves. Best behaviour.

Still no yeast. Shelves weren’t totally empty, but neither were they very full.

How surreal is this? Did anyone see this coming?

I certainly didn’t, but I know someone who did. So I’m sticking in close to him, so that I minimise my exposure and my risk, and yet remain available to help in any way I can. Really encouraged to be able to call on the team of volunteers from the West Church to pick up and deliver an urgent medicine to a former neighbour of ours who just moved into Banchory. Love in action through service. Thank you, Edge team, for stepping out and helping.

To God be the glory. May his name be lifted high through this turbulent time.

Virtually

Bible study met today. Virtually. Thanks to one member who was tech savvy enough to get us onto a platform where we could see and hear each other, read the Bible together and share some thoughts and prayers.

It took someone to set up the meeting, and then she invited participants. When she opened the meeting, those of us invited were connected.

Jesus invites each of us to join him. We don’t need to be tech savvy. We just need to take time to sit with him and accept his invitation, and welcome him into our hearts, into our lives. He is always there. We don’t have to wait for him to open the meeting.

He invites us individually, and he invites us corporately. Very grateful for the technology to continue to worship as church because of technological innovations. Very aware of those who are struggling to survive today, in displaced persons’ camps all round the globe, where the challenges were huge before Corvid appeared. Now they are overwhelming.

Bible study looked at Jesus’ words in Mark. ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. Love your neighbour as yourself.’ How can I obey these commands today, self-isolated as I am?

Many are the plans...

Electricity will be off today from 9 – 4, the letter said. They would be doing work on the overhead cables, and trimming trees that were getting a bit too close. We boiled the kettle. Heated the soup. Filled the thermos flasks. Even looked out the camping stove.

Nine o’clock came and went. Lights still on. Radio blaring. The neighbour phoned to say they’ve postponed it until later in the spring or summer.

A wedding was planned for early April. International borders closed, meaning family from abroad could not come. Then came the lock-down. Nobody could attend. The couple had a private exchange of vows before God, parents and minister, the bride looking radiant.

Bible study was going to meet virtually today. We’re not quite technologically savvy yet so will give it another go tomorrow.

The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley, as Burns wrote.

People make their plans, but God directs our steps. If Covid-19 is teaching us anything, it is how out of control of our destiny we are. In this stark reality, I am praying that God will be glorified and more people than ever will fall in love with Jesus Christ and make him their Lord.

Hugs

I am wearing an Arran knit jumper which I bought in 1971 in Jenner’s, a wonderful department store in Edinburgh. Sadly the store is no longer there, but in its day it was exceptional for its quality.

This jumper has kept me warm over many years. A few threads have broken. One cuff is frayed. But basically, it is still keeping me warm. Quality lasts.

In the cupboard in my bedroom, on the top shelf towards the back is a cardinal sweatshirt. It is a men’s size large, with Trojans emblazoned across the front. It was my dad’s, from his alma mater USC, and of all the touchstones I have with him, this is the one I go to when I am feeling sad and in need of my dad. I put it on, zip it up, and, swamped in it though I am, I sense his protective arms around me. And I am comforted.

We are living in uncertain days. We are all concerned for our loved ones. Those in my age group long to help our children and grandchildren as they struggle to home-school, work from home, survive as health service workers, make do on reduced incomes. They refuse to be helped, fearful that they will infect us and we won’t survive an infection. We long to wrap our arms round each other, but we can’t. There is an invisible enemy preying on us, and we are all just doing our best.

Come to me, Jesus invites us. I will gather my loved ones into my embrace. He’s got the whole world in his arms, as the beautiful spiritual goes. Receive his hug, his loving, powerful hug. He’s closer than you think.

What are you doing here?

Again, the wind howls relentlessly round the house, weaselling its way in the cracks with whines and whistles, causing unpruned bushes to scrape and scratch at the windows. It feels as if the wind has been our constant companion for weeks. Not a fan of it.

Covid-19 is similar. Only more threatening. More fear-inducing. Ignorance is not bliss. We don’t know much about Covid-19; if we did, we could choose our weapons more carefully and target the fight more precisely. Instead we are all hunkered down in our houses, googling how to make hand sanitiser and anti-bac spray and wondering when it will end.

Such global upheaval raises the question: what is God saying to us? Elijah longed to see and hear from God, so God took him out onto a mountain. A great and strong wind rent the mountains, crumbling some of the rocks. It wasn’t God. Then there was an earthquake, but God was not in that either. Next there was a fire, but no God there either.

Finally, there was a still small voice. Elijah recognised who was speaking. It was the Lord. And what was he saying? ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?’

I wonder if God is whispering to me today. What are you doing here, Michele?

Well, I could laugh as I defend myself, Boris has put me in lockdown. Can’t go out.

True. But I can be more effective in lockdown than I can running around the place. I can worship. I can pray. And I can obey and do whatever he says. Feed the hungry. Pray for the persecuted. Phone the lonely.

Perhaps he’s asking Church the same thing. What are you doing here, Church? Are you shining a light in the darkness? Holding out hope as you share Jesus?

What are you doing here? Where would Jesus be?

Wait-Wait

Wait-wait on the Lord, the psalmist encourages. So I wait-waited in my prayer window, lingering long, asking for a word, asking God to guide my prayers. They circumnavigated the globe and then when I checked a message on Messenger, it was a series of amazing Gospel singers, one after the other, singing the well-known spiritual, He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.

Of course he does. Of course we know that. But it was so encouraging to hear it sung with conviction and grace and beauty.

I saw, in my imagination, a root. A root which stretched underground, out of sight, but which was sprouting along its length. Sprouting new green shoots, shoots reaching through the darkness to the light.

May this time of fear and darkness be shot through with rays of brilliant light, Jesus. May this light draw many out of the darkness as they search for meaning and comfort. May we be bearers of hope and faith in the goodness of God, as we email, text and talk on the phone to our family, friends and neighbours.

We all have time now to wait-wait on the Lord. He is waiting patiently for each of us to draw near.

Can't hear you!

Like most people worldwide, we had a simplified service streamed from Banchory this morning. Worship led by a married couple; service led by the minister.

The sound quality was terrible. Maybe it’s my laptop? We couldn’t really hear the prayer, nor the message. But we could join the worship. Worthy is the Lamb who saves. Worthy is the King who conquers the grave. Our God is faithful. He never leaves us.

There was something so moving about seeing church leaders there, leading as usual. Something so inspiring knowing others in our church community were participating, too.

Sometimes I sit in my prayer window, desperate to hear what God will say to me. And I can’t quite hear him. I hear a faint whisper maybe, but it’s indistinct and I’m not sure I’m hearing a message. But I sense he is there. I worship, and I come out refreshed and renewed.

In crisis, our instinct is to join together with our loved ones. Exactly what we can’t do now. But God is there, waiting. We can spend time with him. Even if we can’t hear him clearly, we can sense his presence, and we can worship.

God bless this world which he created and redeemed through the agony of the cross.

Contagious Laughter

Contagious humour. Infectious laughter. Contagious kindness. An outbreak of networking by phone to ensure nobody is too lonely, or without vital supplies. Not everything infectious is to be avoided.

We don’t yet know for sure how Covid-19 is transmitted so we are instructed to avoid all contact. Social distancing. Self-isolation. Quarantine. All that may protect us from the virus but it can make us vulnerable to fear and depression.

Jesus taught that we are to love each other like he loves us. The difference between normal human love and his divine love is the degree of self-sacrifice: he was willing to be quarantined from his beloved Father’s presence on the cross and until his resurrection because he loves us – unworthy sinners – so much.

In these days we are experiencing so many instances of people reaching out to one another. Not all loving kindness springs from love for Jesus. There is an innate goodness in each of us, created from the beginning. When God made humans, he looked and saw that what he made was good.

But when we love Jesus, we should demonstrate an even greater willingness to go the extra mile – make the extra phone call – pick up the extra supplies for others. Jesus said that people will see that we love Jesus through the demonstration of selfless love for one another.

2020 is the year of evangelism. We never expected it to arrive in this challenging form. But we have opportunity to spread contagious faith. To present infectious love for Jesus. To impact our world as we pray earnestly, and are ready to give the reason for our unshakeable hope for the future: Jesus in us. Jesus yesterday, today and forever. Praise him.

Such a time as this

Another few hours spent in the garden. As I dug up the weeds, I had my first sighting this year of a lady bug, scrambling over leaves and grass. I plunged in the garden fork, getting ever closer to her, shaking the weeds and sending dirt clods flying in all directions. For the wee lady bug, it must have felt like an earthquake.

Undaunted, she continued to patter round on the leaves. I told her to fly away home but she didn’t heed my advice. I moved to another area, and when I went back, she had crawled right off the soft verdant leaves and was headed out into the vast (to her), empty dirt desert.

She didn’t pay attention to the signs of the times. So instead of retreating to a safe place, she found herself in a dry and weary land where there was no water.

There are many in today’s world headed into a dry and weary land where there is no water. We have the God-given opportunity to offer the water of life to those who thirst and fear. To share the comforting words of Jesus assuring us that we need not fear, because he is with us always.

Let’s make the most of this opportunity. Who knows but what we were born for such a time as this?

Pruned and Prolific

I spent some time weeding and pruning the roses yesterday. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I tried to cut back the stems which were twisted closely together, to allow fresh air to circulate in the middle of the bushes particularly. Seems like a good idea.

Our Father the gardener does know what he’s doing, thankfully. As we trust in him, he will use Covid-19 to prune us so that we can bloom profusely, form good fruit for others and give off the fragrance of Jesus. He is the God of the impossible, who can bring good out of the most desperate situations. This is a time to draw near to him and trust.

As we walk (alone) through these challenging times, we can trust him that in fact, we are not walking alone at all. He is with us.

Share

‘We would ask everyone to be considerate in the way they shop. We understand your concerns but buying more than is needed can sometimes mean that others are left without.’ (Open letter from several retail grocery stores.)

This is a picture of the injustice of the distribution of the world’s resources. We in the developed world (I include myself) store away for tomorrow without considering that means someone today can’t eat or be warm as a result.

With effort, and God’s help, we can come out of this crisis better people.

Marble Fudge

I remember when a scoop of marble fudge ice cream cost a nickel (5 cents) at Thrifty Drug Store. A memory that long must place me in the ‘at risk’ category!

One of my favourite cakes growing up was a marble fudge cake which my Mom made. Vanilla and chocolate swirled in random patterns, mingling flavours. Mmm.

Those who love Jesus are those who obey him. That is my aim, but so often I fail. I am like marble fudge, only without the ‘mmmm’. The vanilla, who I want to be as I long to follow Jesus more closely, is shot through with swirls of fudge – the dark side that I want to eradicate. Why does it always appear so much tastier than the light side?

I once wrote an article comparing angel food with devil’s food cake. I was helping with a teenage girls’ Bible study at the time, so I made one of each and took them for a taste test. Overwhelmingly, the girls preferred the dark chocolate devil’s food cake over the highly whipped and risen angel food.

I don’t mean to trivialise our sinful natures by comparing them to cake and ice cream. I’m just saying that when I am not careful to focus on and listen to Jesus, and obey, the dark side of me emerges. I am so grateful that Jesus looks at me with eyes of grace, but still, I long to be more angel than devil.

Right now, during this outbreak and the fear swirling round it, we who trust in Jesus should be proclaiming in word and deed that Jesus brings us his peace, and that we should not be troubled or afraid but trust in him. We do not live in fear but in faith.

We don’t know what is coming next, except that it will continue to be marble fudge, and we want to love and obey Jesus so we live empowered by the Spirit. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.

No Fear of Covid 19

The crocuses are glorious in their deep and pale purples and bright golds. Daffodils are through and forming and getting ready to open trumpets of yellow, proclaiming the faithfulness of our God. Spring is springing, just as it does every year.

Though troubles abound, uncertainties can undermine, and fears can overwhelm, our hope is in the name of the Lord, who has made heaven and earth. He doesn’t slumber or sleep. Covid-19 has not taken him by surprise. He knows the right response.

When Peter walked on the water, focused on Jesus, he was fine. It was only when he let the winds and waves distract him that he began to sink.

Now is the moment when we believers have opportunity to show the strength of faith in the King of Kings, how it keeps us from being overwhelmed in an atmosphere of growing anxiety and fear.

The only thing we want to bulk buy into is prayer time with the Lord. Self-isolation frees us up to indulge in this, rather than slumping before hair-raising stories on the internet of what is coming next. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; the fear of Covid-19 is the beginning of meltdown.

Such faith doesn’t fly in the face of caution and restraint. As we love our Lord, so our love for sisters and brothers is deepened and we make every effort not to endanger anyone through recklessness or negligence.

Keep safe everyone. God bless you.

Windy Again

The wind is howling round the house, again. It feels like it hasn’t paused for days. Whining at the windows, rattling the doors, branches scratching like fingernails on a blackboard.

I find the wind exhausting. Here in Scotland it’s rarely a gentle caressing breeze, more of a piercing blast with a bitter edge to it.

The Holy Spirit is likened to the wind, among other images. Is this why he is often ignored or disregarded? We don’t like to have our comfortable seats roughed up. We don’t like our ingrained prejudices buffeted by truth. We don’t like the unpredictability of the wind. We like to make our plans and follow them through.

I’ve got my plans, and the wind of change threatens to disrupt and dismantle them.

Jesus beckoned Peter out of the boat, to walk on the water when it was still turbulent because of the strong winds. Peter responded, and only sank when he became distracted by circumstances.

May I not be distracted by circumstances, but be focused on the face of Jesus and step out of the boat, to go wherever he would take me, today and in the days to come.

Green Garden Hose

The green garden hose hangs limp, looped loosely round a semi-rotten fence post. As the garden begins to stir, awakening after a few months’ hibernation, the hose hangs. Most of the year, we have no need for a garden hose. Given a good summer, we will need it to fill the paddling pool, wash a filthy car, and, occasionally, to spray moisture over a thirsty garden.

When we need it, we need it.

The hose is like so much in life. Overlooked most of the time, and only valued when a need presents itself. I never notice the dust until visitors are coming. Overlooked. I never notice the newspapers strewn round the floor, until I’m hosting Bible study. I don’t notice the drying and dying potted geraniums until the person who gave them to me is coming.

I didn’t really take note of the horrifying injustices in the U. S. criminal justice system until I learned more of the sad history of racial injustice just before the recent execution of a ‘murderer’ who should have been exonerated by the confession to the crime given by another man, but whose innocence was ignored, even by the Supreme Court.

Jesus challenges us to be alert to the signs of the times. Be ready for action. Speak out for the voiceless. Feed the hungry. Clothe the naked. Open your doors to the homeless.

Maybe the owner of the house – the creator of the world – will be back soon. It’s possible. I don’t want him to catch me napping, while the furniture is dusty, newspapers litter the floor and the pot plants droop. Napping, while children starve, people shiver, and injustice prevails.

Praise from the Pit

A lovely spring morning. I put the soup on, and, secateurs in hand, I popped outside to do an hour in the wildness that is our garden. After uncovering the parsley struggling to survive beneath a pile of last autumn’s leaves, I noticed the ivy stretching its grippy fingers every which way. Over the dyke in both directions, up the greenhouse wall and round the damson trunk and clawing its way into the black bagged leaf mulch waiting to enrich the veggie patch.

There is something extremely satisfying about clipping and pulling up the roots of hungry ivy. I didn’t have much time. I didn’t get it finished. But I’ve made a start.

I’ve been hugely impacted these last few days by a programme about Reconstruction in the South after the Civil War. I’ve been shocked and dismayed. Gutted. That I grew up believing lies and half-truths. That I thought the Civil War decided it: African Americans are equal. Now I know there were many deliberate campaigns and decisions by white men at the turn of the 20^th century which caricatured the noble African Americans and libelled and slandered them. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I learned of the execution last week of an African American convicted of a murder someone else confessed to. He was executed anyway.

It seems that white supremacy is hungry, insidious, and active. It obscures the truth and strangles the facts and perpetuates injustice of the most reprehensible kind. I am appalled and left on my knees asking God, ‘What can I do? What can I say? How can I help? How can I make a difference?’

It turns out that I don’t know very much. I am not finished, but I’ve made a start.

In the pits of slavery, the African Americans looked up to God. They sang and they praised him and their music continues to have a powerful influence in sacred and secular society. Praise is a weapon.

As I stand at the edge of this massive injustice in which I have been an unwitting player, there is nowhere to look but up, nothing to do, at this point, but praise. Praise the God who brings what is done in the dark into the light. Praise the God who loves the weak and the marginalised, the voiceless and the oppressed. And listen for his guidance, and then obey.

Driving Blind

Driving back from Banchory this morning, I pulled the lever to wash the windows. The wipers went, but no water came out. Empty.

The windscreen wasn’t that dirty, but I remembered the first time I drove a distance in the snow. My father-in-law insisted on accompanying me, knowing a California girl had no experience on the ice. Very sweet, but only added to my anxieties. Back in those days, cars did not carry windscreen wash. So by the time we’d gone twenty miles on a road with just one lane each way, my screen was filthy with grimy snow and I had to stop and wash the windscreen in order to see and carry on.

Most people are navigating their way through their lives with no windscreen washer. As self-preservation and greed are voiced and acted out, their vision is obscured and they are driving blind. 

Thank God for Jesus, for his Word, written and made flesh, for his Holy Spirit, living in us and clearing our vision.

Call out the Gold

Back from my walk, I strolled round the garden to see what’s happening. I was surprised to see wallflowers budding and beginning to show colour. I planted them last year, given them by my neighbour, and didn’t know whether to leave them in for another year or pull them out in autumn. I’m glad I left them in.

It’s lovely to find new growth where things appeared dead. 

Kris Vallotton coined a phrase, ‘call out the gold’, in reference to seeing the good in every person, prophetically or otherwise. I pray that this might be my aim today and every day, that when I consider anyone else, I ‘call out the gold’.

That’s what God does with us. Even when we were still sinners, he saw something within us worth redemption and Jesus came and died for us. Even when we mess up, he still looks at what might appear dead, and sees green shoots of life and beauty.

The message of Easter. So fitting for springtime!

Shrunken...

‘I put a wash on,’ he said helpfully. ‘I saw the pile there.’

My heart sank. That’s where ‘the pile’ always is, but usually it’s ignored. Last night, I dropped a favourite cardigan there, amongst the rest. A merino wool cardi which I planned to wash by hand.

‘Everything?’ I groaned. ‘Not the sweater…?’

He looked stricken.

It’s over now. The wash is over; the sweater has shrunk.

Why is it that when I drop or chip a mug, it’s one of the new ones and not one of the old pottery ones I’d quite like to drop? Or if the stem of a wine glass breaks in the dishwasher, it’s never one of the ancient ones the petrol station gave away decades ago?

The thing I’m reminding myself of this morning is the love with which the deed was done, not the mistake that was made. I can get another sweater; the love is priceless.

Don’t store up treasures on earth, where moth and rust and hot temperatures in washing machines can ruin them. Store them up in heaven.

Love is certainly a gift from God. I am so grateful for his love – both God’s, and my dear husband’s.