The Robin Trembled

 

The robin trembled, hunkered down in the corner of the entrance lobby. Obviously, the cat had been disturbed and, thankfully, released her before dealing a fatal bite.

Speaking to her softly, I approached the robin slowly, and carefully enfolded her in my cupped hands. She sat still, making no attempt to escape, allowing herself to be carried outside to the window ledge to recover.

The cat stayed in.

After an hour or so, the robin had regained enough strength to fly away, and she was gone. Such lovely, friendly wee birds.

Consider the birds, Jesus taught. They don’t work, but the Father not only feeds them, but knows each one and cares for them.

How much more does he care for you, Jesus asked his disciples? Where is your faith?

Hurricane Ian has wreaked a terrible path of destruction through Florida and is now regrouping for an assault on South Carolina. The wind outside my window is wild and strong. The world is assaulted by storm forces from every direction: natural disasters (as a result, often, of our profligate living), wars, political and economic turmoil, relationship challenges.

As I cower in the corner of my world, Jesus comes to me, scoops me carefully into his cupped hands, and gently soothes me. He carries me to a safe place and gives me space to breathe, to be restored and refreshed so that once again I, too, can fly.

Thanks be to God.

Pumpkin Pie

 

The pumpkin pie cooled on the counter, releasing its tantalising aroma into the kitchen. Mom was outside. I was probably around four years old as I tentatively brushed my index finger on the top of it.

I was horrified as my finger lifted a skim of the pie top, leaving a noticeable mark. I rummaged in the kitchen drawer to find a knife which might smooth it. Made it much worse. Shoving the dirty knife back into the drawer (never thinking to cover my tracks), I withdrew hastily outside to play. Maybe she’d believe I hadn’t been in the kitchen…

Half a guilty hour later Mom called me in and confronted me with the evidence of my crime, including the pie-stained knife. I had no excuse. This was the pie for Thanksgiving, and now it indelibly bore my fingerprint and a smear from the knife. I spent the next half hour behind the bedroom door, a frequent punishment.

Thinking about the ‘referendum’ in eastern Ukraine, where 98% ‘voted’ to join Russia, I am amazed at the cruel and calculating bravado of a world leader who is increasingly pushing the world into a major conflagration. Now the gas pipelines have sprung leaks. I wonder if he could use a knife from the drawer to cover up his fingerprints, which are all over this operation.

Jesus taught, For all that is secret will eventually be brought into the open, and everything that is concealed will be brought to light and made known to all.

I don’t think half an hour behind the bedroom door will be enough, somehow.

 

Perfect Creation

 

Somehow I managed to hem the neck opening of the Barbie cape on the machine without pinning my fingers to the velvet. Have I just forgotten how fiddly and tiny doll clothes are, or have my fingers lost their nimbleness over the years? Hmm.

Creativity in whatever form it takes can be so satisfying – when it goes right.

God must have thought that on the seventh day. He looked at his creation, and he saw that it was good.

That was before his creatures exercised the free will he’d so graciously granted them, to choose to disobey. What a mess we’ve made of the perfect world he blessed us with!

 

 

Faithful to the End

 

Precision. The impeccable precision of yesterday’s state funeral for Queen Elizabeth II was breath-taking. Involving so many hundreds of participants on the ground, moving the casket, playing the sombre music, singing and speaking and silences…and they didn’t have months to practice the detail.

But although they didn’t have months to practice exactly what happened yesterday, all those involved have had time to practice and perfect their gift: be it preaching and presenting the gospel so clearly as Justin Welby did, singing like the angels as the choristers did, or marching in time and in step and in the right direction as so many of the uniformed services (and their horses) did.

Always be ready, Peter advised those to whom he wrote. Always be ready to give an answer to everyone who asks you for the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.

The stage is set. A hush fell over much of the world yesterday as billions watched the faithful servant Queen be laid to rest. She set the stage. Now is the moment for followers of Jesus Christ to step forward and share the reason for the hope they have. We don’t need to have all the theological answers. We just need to be prepared to share what we know, our own testimonies of God’s interaction in our lives, and of the truth revealed that Jesus died for the sins of the whole world and offers salvation, peace, and hope to all who love him.

May we be as faithful to our calling as Queen Elizabeth II was to hers.

Delayed

 

Mary and I usually meet at 9 on Monday and Friday and walk together for an hour. Same route, down the road and back.

She was running late this morning, so we were delayed by about ten minutes, during which time I watched from my prayer window as the farmer moved his large herd of cows up the road and into the field round Mary’s house. Had we been walking on time, we’d have been in the middle of that herd of cows and calves. A daunting prospect.

Today Queen Elizabeth II will be laid to rest. A wonderful Christian woman, selfless in her service. I pray that whatever the plans are for the services today, with an unprecedented number of world leaders and public well-wishers converging on Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace and Windsor, that the Lord will be in the detail of the day, occasioning delays if needed to avoid any malicious intent.

May she rest in peace, and may her bereaved family have time and space to grieve in private.

 

Clear Sight

 

Every month, Mom gets a shot in the eye. Sometimes more than one shot.

The ophthalmologist is trying her best to save Mom’s vision. One eye has already lost sight. The second macula is now leaking.

Her eyes have seen a lot over these 98 years, and the macula, I guess, is wearing thin and tearing. It’s a serious situation. If she goes blind, how will she navigate her living space, especially as her understanding declines? Lord, have mercy.

Worldly cares, personal concerns and shifting cultural understandings can tear at spiritual vision, blurring the clear teaching of God. We are all in danger of spiritual blindness due to cultural degeneration. Lord Jesus, may your Spirit not only prevent further deterioration of my spiritual macula, but even restore clarity, purity and godliness.

Give me Holy Spirit specs, dear Father.

Create in me a clean heart, and renew a right spirit within me. Restore to me the joy of my salvation in Jesus Christ my Lord.

Fresh Filling

 

Working to a tight schedule, I threw the ingredients into the bread maker, turned it on, rushed out the door with all that I needed for Bible study and … dead battery.

Don kindly turned back from his errands and off I went in the other car, a little late. Nearing my destination, the narrow road was blocked by a huge lorry with flashing lights. I turned back, found one parking lot full, and on my third attempt, found a parking place.

It was well worth the effort: this group is so enriching. I had to dash off early for a blood test, got home only to discover a flat loaf of unproven bread: I forgot the yeast.

So I think I’ll have a quiet afternoon. Obviously this is the day for unhelpful situations.

Jesus warned his friends to beware allowing the yeast of the Pharisees to mix into their beliefs. Perhaps that yeast would lead to a rigidity of doctrine and duty, spiritually-speaking.

The consequence of no yeast, though, no faith in Jesus, is a flat and unappealing mess. Now, more than ever perhaps, the world is famished and desperate for the nourishing Holy Spirit.

May I never embark on my day without a fresh filling of the Holy Spirit.

Autumn Hope

 

Autumn arrived early this year. Overnight the trees have started to change into their fall colours. Beautiful.

There is hope in every season, and the certain assurance that spring will follow the winter, the coming cold will not last forever, and again there will be blossom on the trees, fragrant roses on the bushes.

Whatever the season, we are not alone. God is right there with us. Always so grateful for that assurance.

By his grace in his peace

 

Length of days diminishes as the year journeys on. The sun shines from a sky dappled with white clouds, but its warmth wanes. A gentle breeze teases the branches of the rowan outside the window, heavy-laden with darkening berries.

The little plum tree continues to ripen a harvest of delicious fruit. Apples swell in their last weeks before picking. Three pumpkins, still a deep green, grow in my pumpkin patch – a first time for everything.

After picking and processing strawberries, raspberries, rhubarb, cherries, black and red currants, brambles, and courgettes, I am beginning to flag. The cupboards are filling with jams. The freezer is filling with unprocessed fruit for the winter.

We are rich. I am so aware as I write these words that other places are dry and desiccated, barren and brown. We are blessed, and so I will continue to pick and cook and store up for the winter, whatever I find, whatever I grow.

May I be as diligent in my spiritual life, nurturing a deeper faith by regular watering and feeding on God’s words, opening myself to the Son and yielding myself to the Gardener who trains and prunes. In this season of change, may I rest in the assurance of God’s unchanging love.

May I live without fear of the approaching winter.  

Peace I leave with you, Jesus promised. Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Don’t be afraid. Remain in his peace. By his grace in his peace. Thank you, Lord.

The Passing of an Era

 

Sunday morning: 9/11/2022. The church doors were thrown wide open; screens inside followed the procession from Balmoral, down through Royal Deeside. Refreshments were available as mourners awaited the Royal cortège making its way down through Scotland to Holyrood Palace.

Worship was delayed until the body of Queen Elizabeth II had passed through Banchory.

A helicopter whirring overhead heralded the approach of the procession. Men usually in shorts or jeans stood solemnly in kilts; women were dressed to show their respect. Voices were stilled; a respectful hush fell over the crowd lining the High Street.

Suddenly it arrived. A police escort led the way; the hearse carrying the coffin draped in the Union Jack passed by; flowers were thrown; a quiet applause rippled the still air. Some sniffles could be heard; some tissues wiped away stray tears.

A week ago, the Queen was hosting the Moderator of the Church of Scotland to a convivial lunch in Balmoral. A few days after that, she played her part in the changing of the residents of Number 10. Animated and cheerful.

Now she is gone. A monarch who loved and served God and her country for seventy years. An inspiring life well-lived, incredibly difficult to maintain in the glare of publicity, criticism and condemnation, but which she managed with grace and dignity, trusting always in Jesus Christ.

We give thanks to God for her life of faith, and pray that he will welcome her into his presence with the words, ‘Well-done, good and faithful servant.’

And now may her son, King Charles III, follow her example, relying on Jesus during these days of unrest and uncertainty. God give him wisdom and strength for the role he is called to play.

 

Spiders in the Shower

 

I turned on the shower and then I noticed her. A huge spider reacted to the warm water falling from above, seeking shelter under a small shampoo bottle. I picked up a small bowl and put it over her.

I couldn’t bear the thought of a spider on the loose near my bare feet. So the bowl protected me from that anxiety. But at the same time, the bowl protected her from the thundering drench of the shower water.

Yesterday’s rains here were monsoon-like in their power. We, like the spider, sheltered under big brollies as we dashed from one indoor space to another. The water bounced off the brollies, but soaked our feet as they splashed through small lakes of water.

Life can pound on us like a monsoon. This week is one of grief: national loss with the death of an inspirational servant-Queen, and also, all over the world, many are devastated by personal loss. Jesus expressed a yearning to gather the people in Jerusalem under his wings, like a mother shelters her brood. He echoed Psalm 91, where God promises to cover us with his feathers, giving us refuge under his wings.

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust.’

In this time of global deluge, I choose to rest in the shelter of our loving Father. I am so grateful for his loving tenderness, and for the certain hope that one day Jesus will return and dry every tear.a

All Change down here

 

No helicopter from Dyce to Balmoral for the resigning Prime Minister this morning. Thunderstorms were forecast. For safety reasons, he was ferried by car to see the Queen and tender his resignation.

No helicopter from Dyce to Balmoral for the newly-elected Prime Minister either. Thunderstorms. She, too, was whipped up to Balmoral through the drenching downpours.

This was the fifteenth Prime Minister Queen Elizabeth II has invited to form a new government. The first time from Balmoral, where she lingers on, experiencing, at 96, some mobility challenges.

The new and the old. God is the same yesterday, today, and forever, but only the triune God doesn’t change, doesn’t age, doesn’t grow weary and worn.

Queen Elizabeth has invited fifteen individuals to lead the nation she presides over. God invites all his children to lead the world back to him.

May I marvel in the honour of this undeserved position, and not live carelessly, casually, or selfishly.