Nothing is Wasted

 

Sitting in my prayer window, I watch, increasingly mesmerised by the sporadic rhythm of the falling leaves. Some, brown and crinkled, release their hold on the twig and sink to the ground in one motion. Others, still retaining some colour perhaps, float aimlessly downwards, perhaps resting in a cradle of branches briefly before once again drifting down, down, down.

Branches are increasingly exposed as this annual operation continues.

A leaf could be a dream I had, something I nurtured and anticipated a result. I may have worked at it for years until now, brown and shrivelled, it finally dies. It could be a hope, briefly held, disappointed.

It could be a life, aged and fully-spent, released into the arms of God. It could be a life, in middle age, which we expect to continue but which, instead, lets go and falls.

This is the season of sadness, but also the season of creating rich composts from which new life can emerge.

Whatever falls to the earth remains useful in the hands of our Almighty God. The richness of each of our hopes and dreams, each human life: nothing is wasted.

Underneath are the everlasting arms.

COP26: Let Glasgow Flourish

 

I came in from being treated to afternoon tea at a friend’s. It’s so long since we’ve been in each others’ homes; it’s so long since we’ve felt comfortable rather than cautious – although we did sit socially-distanced. Maybe we will continue to be cautious for a long time yet.

Flick and Greg heard me drive in and they raced to greet me, eager to show me their surprise. They led me to the ‘scary room’, the glory hole at the end of the corridor. They were so excited to show me how they had tidied it up.

The day before, I had gone into the scary room with Flick and complained that there was barely a way through the piles of toys and chairs and books and things. Flick heard my frustration and showed her love by engaging her brother’s help in clearing it up as best they could.

They showed their love by trying their best to tidy up the mess they had helped create. What I saw was their love.

Our Father God must walk through the garden of this earth and sigh with exasperation. Maybe he looks at our carelessness as he ‘tiptoes’ through the detritus from plastic water bottles, breathes in air polluted with fumes and particulates, and watches as species slide towards extinction.

COP26 offers an opportunity for the global population to unite in making tough decisions for the sake of creation. If we’re really going to make a lasting difference, though, we need to recognise our dependence on God to guide us, and we need to be inspired by our love for our creator and not by motives of self-preservation.

I am excited that there is so much prayer for COP26. I am excited that God is stirring the hearts of his people to lift up hands to praise him for what he is going to do through this. As the leaders of the world gather in Scotland this weekend, let Glasgow flourish through the preaching of God’s word, and may his glory be seen in the negotiations, conversations, and even demonstrations.

When he looks at our efforts, may he see our love for him.

Dreich

 

The Scots have a great word for today’s weather: dreich. Everything is dripping, and the mist kisses the earth, enveloping the landscape in a damp embrace. Outside my prayer window, I drink in the colours of the season: russets and oranges, golds and browns and fading greens of all shades.

But now I have moved to another chair, and outside the kitchen window I see the Japanese rowan tree on which dangle two or three bird-feeders. This understated tree hangs heavy with pale pink translucent berries. Delicate and light, verging on creamy white, they are not a colour usually associated with autumn.

Every season of life carries inherent cultural expectations. But we are called to conform not to the expectations of the world, but to the call of God on our life.

May I never be constrained into a template designed by my culture or tribe, but instead live large and free as the individual God created me to be. Today may I use the gifts God has given me for his glory, free to express myself however I wish.

‘Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.’

 

Rooted

 

The autumn winds whine and screech round the house, buffeting the bushes and trees outside the prayer window. They sound ferocious, but they have cleared the clouds and a cool sun shines out of a blue sky, highlighting the russets, oranges and golds of the dying leaves.

My favourite tree stands firm in the assault. Three trunks of some girth twist round each other before stretching skywards. A trinity of trunks. They don’t move. All around them, thinner branches bob and bend, leaves let go and drift away. Rooted deeply in the rich soil, though, the Norwegian elm (or is it a maple? Oh, gosh, I don’t know my trees…) stands.

Having done everything, Paul advises the Ephesians, stand firm. We woke to discouraging news that the leaders of Russia and China and possibly India will not be coming to COP26. They must represent more than half the world’s population. We need them onside. Other major nations are lobbying to back off limitations on coal and fossil-fuel production and use. The news is bleak.

Even in the face of climate catastrophe, we can’t find global unity.

God help us. What can we do? Pray, pray, pray. Do what we can to reduce our own negative impact. And finally, retain faith in the Lord of Creation, that he is able. He’s not been caught on the back foot. He has a plan, an ancient, good plan.

So, even as I hear dispiriting news, I will not waver in the adverse winds. I will stand firm, abiding in Jesus, rooted in faith that he is Lord of all the earth, and trusting him to act.

Burning Bush

 

I lift my eyes and gaze out of the prayer window at the familiar, but always changing, landscape. There, set against a backdrop of evergreen trees, blazes a burning bush, a tree in glorious autumnal foliage.

I think of Moses. The thing about Moses was that when he saw the burning bush, he didn’t just press on by. He paused. He wondered. How could a bush be burning and yet never consumed by the fire? He heard God’s voice speaking to him.

Yesterday I had yet more frustrations with my mother’s health insurance and one specific issue which has dragged on since last March. The calls are draining and the confusion is Kafkaesque. Having downloaded, filled in and signed, scanned in and emailed a form back, I now will follow that up later today when they wake up on the west coast of the USA. I was awake in the night, thinking about this issue.

When I saw my ‘burning bush’ this morning, I paused. I asked God to speak to me. ‘My peace I give unto you,’ he said immediately. I breathe his peace deep into my soul. I will not be distracted by worldly anxieties but will focus on him, in whom I put all my hope.

May you know his peace today, too. May we all learn to abide in his love.

The Falling Leaves

 

A large yellowing leaf from the Norwegian elm floats to the ground, landing on the green grass verge. Something with life fading fast, lying atop something still holding potential to grow more in the right conditions.

I’ll need to get out there with a rake, or the growth of the grass will be compromised.

God wants to reveal his life in me. Day by day, if I am open to God’s voice, he reveals traits in me which obscure his beauty. They need to drop off and float away. He can enable the releasing of them, but I have to do my part. I have to recognise it’s time to totally discard them in order that true life can be revealed and grow in my life.

It is hard to let go of habits and traits which have become ingrained in me, but I need to surrender to his love and mercy and invite him to reveal himself through me more clearly. May I rake up, gather and burn all those quick retorts, thunderous looks and critical thoughts which prevent God’s grace and mercy breaking through me today.

Boundless Love

 

Abby bounded out of her house to greet me. She leapt and raced, tongue out poised to grab a juicy kiss. I turned this way and that to avoid being knocked over with her exuberant welcome. Abby is the three-year-old German shepherd owned by our neighbours.

Pure joy. She isn’t restrained by fears or apprehension; no guilty secrets hinder her welcome: she greets me with unbounded enthusiasm. She doesn’t ask anything of me; she’s just excited to see someone at her door.

No, not much of a guard dog, unless she were going to lick the intruder into submission.

Sitting in the prayer window later, I stilled myself and waited on God. I was quiet, restrained, respectful.

I wonder if he’d prefer me to bound into his presence, singing his praises and rejoicing in his blessings and love?

 

Sneaky Spider

 

I entered the shower with my eye trained on the eight-legged creature already there. He was negotiating the slippery wall, tentatively extending a long leg before inching ahead in that direction.

I wasn’t too bothered … after all, he was moving so carefully I could anticipate where he might reach. Until suddenly he abseiled onto the adjoining wall. Obviously, when he wanted to, the spider could leap a distance in one go. Maybe I wasn’t as safe as I had assumed.

I’ve just been praying for COP26 in Glasgow. The earth is the Lord’s, and we so need his leading to stop the global rot which we have initiated. Some voices are raised against action, though. Voices insinuate that we can make a few tweaks to our lifestyles and all will be well. Keep mining for coal. Keep wrapping fruit in plastic.

Those of us praying for God’s guidance need to keep our eyes alert to the opposition, whose next moves may not be as predictable as we may think. May the Lord bless all who are preparing for COP26, and inspire them with vision and perspective and courage. May he open the eyes of those leaders who talk the talk but do nothing. May they recognise their roles and lead boldly. And may he thwart the efforts of those who seek to disrupt.

The enemy is not always a roaring lion. Sometimes he is a sneaky spider.

 

The sound of silence

 

The sound of silence.

My Monday walking partner forgot it was Monday, so I walked alone. I walked, and I paused, and I listened. Apparently alone in a rural landscape, I heard the drone of work traffic from a mile or two away. A helicopter chopped past overhead.

I waited and listened. The sound of many birds – a choir of random rhythm and various keys. We used to get a regular visitor to our B&B who was a keen birdwatcher. Iain told us he heard the songs of 37 different types of birds round our back woods. His ear was trained. He heard and identified.

I heard – maybe six or seven different songs and tweets. My untrained ear no doubt missed many songs.

I ask God to speak to me. Guide me. Tell me what to do or say. I don’t always hear. I know he speaks; I need to train my ear to hear.

I need to be still - even in the midst. To listen. To listen in the cacophony of a busy household; to listen in the silence; to listen in the reading of his word; to listen to those I meet. He speaks. He sings. Zephaniah writes that he sings over us with joy.

May we all sense his song over, around and through us today. May we rest assured that he is with us: his love, mercy, peace and kindness are his gifts to us today.

Leaves

 

A gentle breeze ruffles the autumn leaves, just beginning to change colour. After yesterday’s soaking, the sun winks through the shifting leaves, dazzling me.

The autumn leaves will soon drop, carpeting the ground. Jesus encourages us to stay connected. It’s as we abide in him, that we are nourished and flourish. When we allow other things to distract us that we release our hold on him.

Even when we do that, though, his promise is that he never releases his hold on us. I am so grateful for the faithful, loving Saviour we worship.

Order, Order!

 

Everything in its place, and a place for everything.

That was one of the adages my mother used to say. She lived by it. I’d like to say it took root in me and my house reflects that. But I can’t. The mess in most rooms gives me away.

It does hold true, though, for the important things. Official letters; tickets; jewellery; passport: some things I take care to keep in places I will always remember. 

Yesterday, I had the fun of spending most of a day playing with Callan who, at five, shows an orderly mind which helps him to separate Lego into boxes of colour, for instance. I can learn a thing or two from my grandson.

God called the universe into being. He established order where there had been chaos. Scientific laws govern the movements of planets and stars, the turning of the earth, the rhythm of the tides. May I learn to establish an order in my life, an order which leads to peace.

(I wish I could just speak order into my chaos with the uttering of a word or two, but alas…)

 

Raglan buttonholes

 

Back in the days when I sewed my own clothes, I always found making buttonholes tricky. Even with the modern sewing machine (back in the day), which had a ‘button-holer’, the fabric needed to be positioned with greater accuracy than I always had.

Mom used to make a different kind of button hole sometimes. I think they were called raglan button holes. I never graduated to that degree of expertise.

But last night, as I prayed, in my mind’s eye I saw a raglan buttonhole, beautifully made, but not cut through. It looked perfect, but it was still useless for joining two bits of a garment together, because it remained intact and uncut. That final step – the cutting through perfectly-good fabric in order to achieve a new join – is a nerve-wracking move to make.

God has made each of us just as he wants us. In his sight, we are perfectly made. We are like the perfectly formed raglan buttonholes that Mom used to make. It is as life’s challenges and sorrows cut into us, though, that we become useful to God, and to others. As we walk through the tough times with him, the fabric of our lives is rent. It is uncomfortable, painful. But as we remain close to him, depending on him for our next steps, people around us glimpse the beauty of God’s presence and the faithfulness of his love, and they, too can be joined to him. Buttoned into eternal life.

May I yield myself to the divine tailor today, willing to be cut into so that others can know his perfect love.