Smiling

 

Now that ours is one of those cars where my mobile phone is hooked into the radio, magically, I can receive or, I am told, make a call while driving. But I remember the days when, if the phone rang while I was on the road, I would need to pull into a layby before answering it. Often by that time I had missed the call.

I’ve been in a layby this last week, mentally, physically, but not spiritually. I can’t say I’ve had any prophetic revelations, but I have definitely heard the call and felt the love of our heavenly Father as I’ve trusted in him to meet all my needs.

Although I hadn’t planned to pull into a layby, having done so, my perspective is altered and my willingness to sink back in front of Wimbledon and do nothing, feels justified.

I think I can see my Father smiling. Come away with me, Jesus invited his disciples, to a quiet place to get some rest. Sometimes we are forced to heed his wise guidance.

Sold out and Surrendered

 

So, she said matter-of-factly, you just grab a fold of skin, stab in the needle, depress the syringe. It’s just below the surface; doesn’t have to go in deep.

Easy for her to say.

Never did I imagine I would be required to give myself shots in my stomach. Never would I have thought I could do it.

Turns out I can.

I’ve had a busy week. First time I’ve had a general anaesthetic. First time I’ve had an op. First time I’ve had to try to get blood thinners regulated afterwards: a work in progress, hence the daily self-injections.

Most of the last week, I’m happy if I don’t live through a similar sequence of events again. But it did afford me hours to read, and I have read an amazing book by Samaa Habib, Face to Face with Jesus.

I have been inspired, awed, humbled, and challenged by this former Muslim woman’s story of conversion and her all-out faith and passionate love for Jesus. May my spirit respond with eagerness and passion as I ask God to help me live such a surrendered life to Him.

Road less Travelled

 

Traffic from the main road seems to have been redirected down our sleepy country lane, and we don’t like it. Having a walk yesterday was not pleasant as we were constantly being overtaken by streams of up to four cars (😉) at a time interrupting our conversation.

Sometimes life takes an unexpected turn and you find yourself on a road less travelled. What does God say about that?

‘I am with you always. I never leave you nor forsake you. Trust in me.’

That’s the road I’m on today. Exercising trust as well as my body.

God bless.

I Lift my Eyes

 

I love the new Passion Translation of the Bible. Psalm 121:5 says: ‘Yahweh himself will watch over you; he’s always at your side to shelter you safely in his presence.’

I did connect with Mom on Wednesday (missed her again last night), and found her extremely tired and dispirited. Then I learned yesterday that she has been asking about her parents. I hear in that a level of fear and insecurity as she is aware of her diminishing clarity of thought and memory. She wants to feel safe, protected by those who nurtured her for her early years.

It cuts me to the heart, being so far away and unable to cradle her and reassure her that she is loved and cared for. A telephone is better than nothing, but not a lot better in this instance. I turned to my readings last night and lo and behold, it was Psalm 121, which Mom has always told me is the one her family has at funerals. ‘I lift my eyes to the hills…my help is in the name of the Lord.’

So last night, and continually, I pray that the Lord will be whispering this Psalm into her heart, into the core of her being as he comforts and cradles her in her lostness.

‘Yahweh himself will watch over you; he’s always at your side to shelter you safely in his presence.’

 

Shalom

 

For nearly a week I’ve been unable to reach my Mom in the usual way, by Skyping her telephone. Every attempt brings up the message: ‘Network connection too weak. Please try again later.’ But in fact, when I immediately Skype another phone number, like the reception desk at the assisted living home where Mom lives, I get a good connection.

I’ve asked the maintenance man to please check the battery in her phone, and that the receiver is on the cradle. Hopefully today I might get through.

We don’t always get the right diagnosis when something goes wrong. In this case, I guess it’s the wrong algorithms or AI or something digital which is mis-diagnosing the problem and sending the wrong message.

Proverbs 3 advises us to trust in the Lord with all our hearts and don’t lean on our own understanding. My brain may use the wrong algorithms when I am confronted by reactions or behaviours that I don’t understand, and I can easily jump to the wrong conclusions. May God renew my inner ‘battery’ today, and open my spiritual ears so that I ponder things in my heart, led by God, rather than jump to wrong conclusions, blurting out harmful words without due consideration.

Grace and mercy foster love and peace. Shalom.

The Empty Nest

 

The empty nest. I’ve been carefully skirting round one of the apple trees, where a female blackbird sits hour after hour, day after day, on her clutch of eggs. Yesterday I was horrified to find she’d flown, leaving five beautiful blue eggs lying unprotected.

I felt so sad, wondering if the cat had found her, or another predator. But later Don went out and she had returned. Maybe she needed a pit stop, or a snack. She had to leave the nest unattended for some reason, trusting or hoping that nothing would interfere with the welfare of her babies.

Relinquishment. The devotional app I use has focused this week on the story of Hannah, and today was the day when she gave Samuel to God. He was only three years old. I thought about my three-year-old grandchildren, and how challenging it would be to give them to God. Sounds safe enough – entrusting them to God’s care – but in practice, to give them into the care of an elderly man who didn’t know they were coming, and trust God to care for them through him: I doubt I could do it.

The prayer of relinquishment. Action proving faith.

The next reading I did was looking at the story of Abraham, called to Mount Moriah to sacrifice his beloved son Isaac. The commentator opened my eyes to the way that story prophetically parallels the story of Jesus, down to the carrying of wood on the sacrificial back, in the vicinity of Mount Moriah. It’s amazing the way the old and new testaments reinforce the same message. God’s love for his world. God gave us his only, beloved son, knowing that we would not cherish him but would brutally murder him. How deep the Father’s love for us.

The grace of relinquishment.

To hear one of these stories today would have been challenging. To hear – coincidentally, as the second reading is not tied to a calendar date – two such stories on the same day wakes me up. I sense God nudging me, challenging me, maybe even shouting at me, to relinquish my beloveds and entrust them totally into his care.

His grace is enough. I can only let go through God who enables me. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Nothing is impossible for God.

I may need to print this reminder out…

Summer Fruits and Sweet Friendships

 

Summer fruit. Can anything beat it?

Of course, in these days of global groceries, some summer fruits are available year-round, flown in from the Middle East, Africa or South America. But these strawberries, at least, claim to be British. Less time from field to table sweetens the flavour.

Bible study this morning was like a feast of summer fruits. There was a sweetness in our worship, in our prayer and sharing, and as we closed out Acts, even in our discussions.

A sweet friendship refreshes the soul (Proverbs 27:1). Thank you, Lord, for friends.

 

Linger

 

Working as a team, the farmers sucked up the mown grass within a couple of hours. Where the fields were Kelly green a couple of days ago, today the stubble is pale yellow under the heavy cloud cover. This morning I watched as the gate was opened from the lower field and the small herd of cows rushed into the field. They must have been tortured by the tantalising smell of grass over the past days, and thought they were in for a feast.

Alas. They rushed onto the stubble, jostling and pushing forward, racing past the fringe of long grass left ringing the electricity poles, anxious to stay with each other. In their quest, they missed some tasty tidbits.

How often do I rush forward with the crowd, eager not to be left behind, anxious to find something satisfying to ruminate on, and in my myopic rush I miss the feast my Father has prepared for me? Today may I lag behind the crowd, may I linger and listen for that still small voice whispering wisdom and love to me.

The Space Between

 

The space between.

Listening to my morning devotional app, my gaze wandered to the space between a wildflower (some people might call it a weed) and a leafy branch of a cultivated bush. The field beyond displays stripes left by the sileage cutter: rows of Kelly-green grass between rows of golden stubble. The stubble might be seen as ‘the space between’, but in fact it is no doubt teeming with life suddenly exposed to wind and sun. It is also, in itself, potential for renewed growth and vibrancy.

We’ve just returned from a funeral – the one we thought we were going to last Monday. So sad for this talented woman to have died so young. Now what is left for the family, but the space between. The space between sharing life with their wife and mother, and doing life on their own. The space between the shadow-life we live on earth, and the eternal life we will enjoy in heaven.

Yet the space between is a place of potential and hope. It is not a wasteland of broken dreams. The potential and hope are fed by the prayers, lives and examples of those who have gone before.

May I recognise and embrace the space between in my own life today. May the God of hope fill us all with joy and expectation as we trust in Jesus today, in the space between.

Mercy and Love

 

The boundaries for me have fallen in pleasant places. I praise God for the blessings he has showered on me all my life. Blessings I don’t deserve.

Yesterday I thought about us all as refugees, staggering along with our baggage towards our eternal home. Last night we joined with other residents on the Leys Estate for an outdoor celebration of the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee. There was a huge bonfire (beacon); there were fireworks and prosecco and good dry weather – and midges… - but most notably, there were so many faces of friends once so familiar, now grown older. Friends we stood with at the football pitch side-lines (freezing usually), shouting the Crathes team to victory (sometimes). Friends we stood with at the viewing gallery windows by the pool every Friday night, watching other friends teach our kids to swim. Friends we gathered with at PTA meetings, fundraising drives, school plays. A community held together round the Crathes Primary School, a community which dispersed as our children grew and moved up to the Academy and then on into life.

What a joy to reconnect with these neighbours! Today I want to give thanks to God for giving us the gift of community. We have such an in-built desire to connect, to share our journeys. I am really grateful that we have been embedded in this area for four decades, and that during those decades we have met and walked with such a variety of individuals, all whom God loves.

Lockdowns interrupted our communities, but I pray that society will recover its inbuilt urge to gather together, to share life, with those around us. May we not become isolated on devices and entertainments, but instead live into the life Jesus calls us to, one of community and kindness, mercy and love.

All Refugees

 

We are all refugees.

The world inflicts suffering on everyone, in one way or another. Ill health, poor relationships, disappointing careers, lack of opportunities, poverty … as well as wars, famines, persecution and so on.

We Christians are strangers in an alien land, and we are all struggling through, dressed in our rags, dragging our bags. Let’s be kind to one another today and every day, reaching out a helping hand, laying aside our own plans or ambitions or expectations in order to walk someone else towards home.

So grateful to Jesus that one day we will be arrayed in the royal robes we don’t deserve, because he has washed us and cleansed us by his sacrifice, through his love. Every day is a jubilee day as we approach home.