These boots were made for walking in peace

My walking shoes have carried me many miles. They navigated the steep crossing of the Pyrenees when they were still young and new. My feet felt fine, though a knee complained and put a stop to further progress on that pilgrim route.

Since then, they have carried me on hilltop adventures and more prosaically, up and down the road with friends and family, and round the nearby woods. They’ve been reliable and sturdy and comfortable.

So with sadness I note the tears in the uppers, and with chagrin I see part of the sole is pulling away. Soon they will have walked their final miles and will need to be replaced.

A person makes her plans, but it’s God who determines her steps. May God have mercy on all those who trek away from the fighting in Ukraine, seeking safety and shelter and refuge. May God have mercy on those who plant themselves in their homes despite the maelstrom of violence descending. May the Lord have mercy on those who stand to defend freedom.

The Lord foils the plans of nations and frustrates the plans of peoples: may he override the aggressor today. We speak peace into the hearts of those who declare war. Peace, in the powerful name of Jesus.

Today I put on the shoes of the gospel of peace. Shoes which have carried believers millions of miles through the centuries, proclaiming the peace of God which passes all understanding. Peace, in the name of the Prince of Peace, Jesus. Peace in the hearts of aggressors and defenders. Healing peace. Maranatha. Save us, Lord Jesus, our refuge and strength and a very present help in times of trouble. We look to you in faith and trust. 

Show your power

Squiggle by squiggle the paint goes on. A ‘Significant’ Birthday gift: a paint-by-number of a photo of two precious children, now significant adults. On this canvas are lots of shades of grey, brightened by many shades of rose and pink. Gradually the image emerges, two tots riding tricycles into my dining room.

Memories embrace me like a warm blanket.

One act of aggression after another: gradually an image of horror emerges from eastern Europe. The shades of grey are darkened by shades of black, and to listen to or watch the news coming from Ukraine tempts one to slump into despair that the world is sinking ever deeper into a quicksand from which there is no rescue.

As a prophetic voice reminded church a couple of weeks ago, though, it’s when the darkness is deepest that the light shines brightest. By faith we know the light of Jesus is in us. When hopelessness is expressed, I will voice my trust that despite all the signs, Jesus is the same yesterday, today and forever. He walks through Ukraine now; he weeps with every broken heart; he brings comfort and the peace beyond understanding.

May the aggressors’ hearts be enlightened by the Holy Spirit, as Paul’s was enlightened on the road to Damascus. May this moment be transformed into one in which Jesus is glorified.

May your mercy and love prevail, Lord. Show your power, God, we pray. 

Stately Trees

 

Stately trees have been felled like bowling pins by the fierce winds of this winter’s many storms. The various stands of trees round us look like scenes from the First World War, sad scenes of devastation where majestic trees have taken one another down and now lie dying on the forest floor.

Nobody seems to be clearing them, and this has bothered me. Until last night, when I heard a tree expert say that though the loss of an ancient tree is a sad thing, as it is left to lie it becomes home to new life. Biodiversity flourishes.

I will look at the devastation differently now.

How like God: new life springing up from that which had died. How like Jesus, rising from a  hideous death into new life. How like us, raised to new life from being the walking dead, by the  power of the Holy Spirit.

Easter message even before Lent.

Squelch!

 

Squelching round the thawing field with my neighbour, icy water seeped into my no-longer-waterproof walking shoes. She had chosen this route, fearful of slipping on black ice on the road.

What appeared to be more sensible turned out to be foolish.

God advises in Scripture that his is the voice quietly prompting us: this is the way, walk in it. Many times I am so loud discussing the pros and cons of the way I should go, that I don’t hear his voice at all and end up squelching through mud.

May I learn to be still and listen before I step out.

The Way they Were

 

Clear the cache.

I wrote a blog on the Woman Alive website, telling the story of a friend of Mhairi’s, Kira Fontana. She is a singer-songwriter, who released a song on Valentine’s Day which God gave her to sing to her husband as her vows at their wedding. Their love story was one of meeting to marriage in a month, during Covid. It was clearly a story of God the matchmaker.

After submitting the blog, Kira gave me the link to the song. I sent it in, but every time I looked at the blog, it didn’t contain the link. My contact insisted it was up and finally, exasperated with such a techno-dunce, she advised: clear the cache. If you’ve been looking at it, the cache will continue to show you the blog as it was the first time you checked. It’s definitely there.

Clear the cache. I’ve no idea how to do that. It’s made me think, though, how often I check in on situations and relationships and instead of seeing them as they are now, after prayer, I continue to see them as they were. They are stored in my memory and that is what I see, rather than the reality of the situation after God’s intervention.

Lord, this day would you please clear my cache? Open my eyes to see things as you see them, as they really are, and not as I remember them or assume them to still be.

Treasures

 

Treasures.

‘Gramma,’ Flick said. ‘This is for you.’

She handed me a small, padded blue box. On the front were pictured Anna and Elsa from Frozen, a favourite movie of hers, favourite characters. (I always have to braid her hair ‘like Elsa’s’ when she comes).

‘Oh, no,’ I objected. ‘Those are your favourite characters. You keep it.’

But no, she insisted. It was for me.

I’m keeping earrings in that box now. It’s a real treasure box. It cost the giver something to give it to me. She gave me something she couldn’t replace, something she valued.

I love the story of Jesus watching the widow putting her last ‘mite’ into the temple offering. He was so impressed with the sacrifice of her gift. Not only did it reveal her love for God; it also revealed her trust in him to provide for her needs.

May I have such generosity in my heart today, Lord, that I give that which costs me something to give. May I give of my treasures, with joy and trust, out of love, to those I meet.

Mainly, may I give you, Lord, that which I treasure, out of love, expecting nothing in return. Help me, Lord, to love you more.  

Fish suppers

 

Out of the prayer window and the peaceful contemplation of God’s perfect handiwork, and onto the computer to make another stab at pulling together the information for filing US tax return. Having done the UK one, it’s a frustration to be grappling with figures once again.

One of the main snags of filing in the two countries is that they each compute the actual dates of the year differently. One is a linear year, the other is a financial year, and therefore the figures and the documents don’t line up. They have to be re-worked.

Jesus advised Peter that they didn’t want to offend the Temple authorities. ‘Go down to the lake and throw in a line. Open the mouth of the first fish you catch, and you will find a large silver coin. Take it and pay the tax for both of us.’ (Mt 17:27)

Oh, if only it were so easy!

I love the way Jesus uses both the natural and the man-made, working together, to pay his tax.

Presumably, after paying their taxes, he and Peter enjoyed a fish supper together!

Valentine from God

 

A posy of snowdrops sprouts through the grass opposite the prayer window. Harbingers of spring, but also delicate beauties in their own right. Their tiny white petals  laced with green decorations bring a smile to my face.

The posy waves gently in the breeze, a living offering of love from God my saviour on this day when love is celebrated in so many, so many expensive, ways.

Whatever my situation is today, with God as my Valentine, how can I be anything but grateful?

Happy Valentine’s Day, whether it involves expensive chocolates and fancy cards or is shown in one of the infinite gifts of God to you today.

Flower petals of ice

 

Flower petals of ice strew the tarmac. Ice clumps in the grass verges. Sun rays tease at the frozen earth, tickling new life into the bulbs lying beneath.

Transition. Winter lingers; spring hesitates.

It’s easier to stick with the present situation rather than step boldly into an unknown future.

Do not be afraid, God counsels. Do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God  is with you wherever you go.

Whatever new season, new situation, new relationship may beckon, as long as I am assured of Jesus walking into it with me, I am ready. Here I am, Lord.

Wind, again the Wind

 

‘Lord, inspire me,’ I breathed. I thought of Adam: ‘God breathed the breath of life into the man’s nostrils.’ God’s breath inspired Adam; his breath inspires us.

Inspiration is life itself. He inspires each of us every moment.

The breath of God. The wind of the Spirit.

I think my attitude to the sharp winds of northeast Scotland needs to shift. Instead of describing the wind’s insinuation into our home as whines and moans, perhaps I can think of it as song. Perhaps.

My dislike of the wind has to go. The wind carries seed that lands, germinates, and grows a crop to feed us. It moves the weather on: a great blessing when icy snow falls, or we would become like Narnia, where it was ‘always winter but never Christmas’. It facilitates flight; enables sport (sailing, gliding, parapenting); dries the sheets!

As a child, I grew up near an outdoor shopping mall. I have a memory of walking a certain row of shops, and as I would near the end of the row, there often came a welcome breeze in my face, blowing my long hair and cooling my body. Not all winds bear an icy edge.

So, and again, ‘wind, wind, blow on me’. The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it. Including the wind.

 

Aggressive winds

 

An aggressive afternoon wind whines through the house. Inside my prayer window, I watch as it sends thin, wispy white clouds skiting eastwards, exposing a baby blue vastness that lies above them.

Sometimes, I can get in my own way. I can allow anxieties to accumulate like clouds, white or grey or even black, obscuring God in all his magnificence and glory. Back to that early chorus: ‘Wind, wind, blow on me…’

Lord, despatch any doubts and send all fears into obscurity. Fill me again with your blessed Holy Spirit. Transform my mind by the renewing of my spirit within.

I thank you for your grace and mercy, that you know my thoughts before they arrive on my lips, that you know the prayers of my heart. Peace, you say. My peace I give to you, a peace unlike the superficial peace of the world. A deep, inner peace that remains despite the tempests and hurricanes howling inside and out.

Praise you, Jesus.

Hope for the future

 

On my desk sits a glass – half-empty, or half-full? We often see this image as exposing an attitude of pessimism or optimism. I read something yesterday, in Sarah Wilson’s excellent and challenging book, this one wild and precious life, where she concludes that she is neither pessimistic nor optimistic about the future of the planet, because she reckons neither is going to inspire her to action. Both reflect passive observation, whereas hope is something that drives her into activism. She declared that she is full of hope.

I love that despite her lack of belief in God, she has hope. Her hope rests in humanity and its connection to the natural world, and her belief that if we all lobby and revise our lifestyle expectations, climate disaster can be averted.

I have hope, too, and I’m glad to be reminded of it and to identify where my hope is rooted – in the infinite love and beauty of our God, and his incredible grace and favour towards his creation. So today, with St Paul, I pray: ‘May the God of all hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit’. As we rest in dependence on him, may we all hear his whisper and respond to his prompts to reduce, recycle and re-use, and to use whatever influence we might have to inspire others to make good, healthy lifestyle choices for the sake of the planet and the lives of our children and grandchildren. May we all respond to his prompts to extend kindness to all, regardless of their opinions, and to work for unity and cooperation at the highest levels, across the globe.

Whether or not the glass is half-full or half-empty, I have hope in Christ.

Groundhog Day Again ...

 

I sit in the prayer window and look out on a peaceful morning. It seems no breeze blows at all. All is still after the storms of this last week.

All is still, but all is not the same. Trees are down, leaving areas of woodland more like WW1 battlefields than pleasant forests. Even in our own garden, branches are broken, bushes are battered.

Today is Groundhog Day. Most of us know the legend of it from the movie a few years ago. The main character continually relives the day until he finally adjusts his pompous personality and transforms into a nice guy. Until then, every morning heralds a repeat of the previous day, though he is the only one aware of it.

The storms of life do not leave us unchanged. Sometimes, as in Groundhog Day, the movie, we emerge as better people. We gain wisdom and insight during storms. We come to know ourselves at a new level. Sometimes, relationships are broken off as a result of a storm. That can be either heart-breaking or healthy.

Jesus famously stood up in the pitching boat and ordered the wild waves: ‘Peace, be still.’ How often in storms – both meteorological and lived – we can beg him to do it again. Please, Jesus, please order the storm to abate. Sometimes he does. More often than not, I suspect, he lets the storm rage, but he walks with us, shielding us from falling trees and holding us close.

I will never leave you nor forsake you, he said. Happy Groundhog Day. Let’s hope Punxsutawnee Phil doesn’t see his shadow today, and spring comes early. Otherwise, I guess we have another six weeks of storms and possible power outages! Either way, Jesus’ promises hold true. So grateful.

Wind, wind

 

 Wind, wind, blow on me … .

Yet again, the wild wind whistles through cracks and imperfect door seals. Moaning and wailing a sad story. I hear it as a sad story, but is it?

When I was born again in 1979, my favourite spiritual chorus was, ‘Wind, wind, blow on me ...’ The wind of the Spirit had whooshed through my being, blown out the dead detritus and filled me with the light and life of Jesus Christ. It was powerful, and its effect was instantaneous. I stepped out of that church a new creation.

The wind was both powerful and gentle. A kiss of life, the breath of God filling my lungs and prompting my praise. Rebirth.

As we donned coats, in the dark, to go out for dinner last night, hope had faded of power being restored. The flashing hazard lights of the trucks bringing the engineers to pick up the fallen wires  and reconnect us, had gone. Nothing but darkness down the road. The joiner working here thought they weren’t engineers anyway, but tree surgeons dealing with the fallen wood. We’d given up hope of having power restored and readied ourselves for another dark night.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Opening the back door, I saw that our back porch light was on. Nobody was there. I went to the front door. Nobody was there. The bell rang because the power had been restored.

The bell rang because the power had been restored. I was at a low ebb when the Holy Spirit blew on me and filled me with new life. I bounced back up the road to share the good news with Don. I was a ringing, clanging (possibly irritating?) bell for many weeks – maybe I still am.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. Praise God that he has shone his light into this world through the sacrificial love of his Son Lord Jesus Christ. Praise him for the new life we can all step into. I am so grateful.

So, okay. Wind, wind, blow on me … wind, wind, set me free. In Jesus I am free indeed, and the darkness is as light.