Influencers

 

Dreadful weather, I heard this morning through WhatsApp, in Newtyle and Bearsden. Not here, I responded primly: just back from a lovely walk. It was mild, a soft breeze blowing…

Pride comes before a fall: our sweet weather preceded the downpours which have now broken out from the heavens above.

Years ago – gosh, nearly half a century now – when I first moved to northeast Scotland from southern California, I would pop out of bed in the morning and draw open the curtains. If the sky was blue, I naively assumed it would be warm. As the truth dawned that blue skies didn’t necessarily herald warm temperatures, my mood would sink: inner darkness gathered in my psyche as my outlook clouded.

So many things influence who I am today. I am shaking myself awake, opening myself to Jesus and longing to have my mind transformed, like a seed is into a flower, so that the voices that cloud my perspective with negative pronouncements will be blown away by the wind of the Holy Spirit. The wind that whispers hope, declares salvation, and trumpets LIFE.

Wild or Nurtured?

 

The purple arms of buddleia stretch out, their heavy heads of blossom drawing them downwards towards the drive. They obstruct the narrow lane, but until their time is past, there they will remain.

Along the road, rockets of fuchsia-coloured willow herb blast towards the sky. Not weighed down by a heavy load, they reach upwards, a joyful display of colour.

Round both bushes buzz and bob a variety of insect life, from butterflies to bees. A pleasant hum surrounds them.

This is the day the Lord has made: I will rejoice and be glad in it.

Yesterday I was more like the buddleia, bending with the weight of anxieties for others. Today, with the sunshine on my face, I feel more like the willow herb. Funny how the willow herb is considered a weed, whereas we nurture and care for the buddleia.

I think Jesus probably longs for us all to be more like the weeds of willow herb, growing wild and free, where he plants us, allowing any seed we might produce to be blown by the quixotic wind of the Spirit. Those worries that rest heavily on us, bowing us down: today I resolve to give them, once again, to Jesus, my rock and my salvation, who invites me to join him in the joyful dance of life as I worship and love him.

Glory in the Heavens

 

The sky, overcast with heavy grey clouds, held back its moisture as we made our way round Loch Muick. How long it’s been since I did this beautiful walk! This was a day out for Mhairi and I, a day of appreciating open vistas, of recalibrating circular thinking, of just absorbing the beauty of God’s creation.

We paused at the head of the loch, sat on one of the wooden bridges, and stared. Peace. Perfect peace.

As we resumed our walk, the trail narrowed and filled with rocks and boulders.

‘The trouble with boulders on the trail,’ I complained, ‘is that you have to keep your eyes on the path, and you miss the view.’

We walked on.

Mhairi replied. ‘It’s just a different view to contemplate.’

Yes. So it is with life. There are times when the path is clear and our eyes can rise to appreciate a wide perspective. There are other times, though, when the path is strewn with boulders and roots, and our gaze has to remain on what might trip us up.

But at no time are we walking alone. God is walking on the clear paths and on the rocky trails.

Whichever path you’re navigating today, there is a vision of God’s glory in it. It’s just not always that easy to appreciate. May he give me eyes, today, to drink in the life and love displayed in his beautiful world.

 

Protected

 

I took the secateurs outside to dead-head the roses. Given the recent showery weather we’ve had, including some torrential downpours, many of the roses looked sad and beaten, even if they hadn’t yet died. On weak stems, they hung their sorry heads, petals browning and shrivelling and shedding.

But underneath, growing quietly under the canopy of leaves and big, battered blooms, a rosebud perched erect on its stem. Its leaves were green, and it was beginning to open and bless us  with its beautiful fragrance.

Jesus invites us to pull in close to him. He expressed a frustration that he wanted to gather those in Jerusalem in close, like a hen does her chicks, but they wouldn’t come. That little rose bud reminds me that as I seek to shelter in the arms of Jesus, he enables me to bloom. The winds and rains may batter all around, but I don’t need to receive the blows if I stay close to him.

I am so grateful that I can live in the shadow of his wings. That is life to the full.

Prunings

 

Over forty years ago, as a new Christian, I sat on a plane on the runway in Los Angeles, seated with my two eldest children, who were just 4 and 2. It was January, and rain lashed the portholes on the aircraft. The sky itself was weeping, and inwardly, so was I. We’d just said goodbye to my parents and sister: in those days, they could walk us to the gate, so the goodbyes were fresh, my sorrow was raw. I knew I couldn’t show emotion or I would upset the children.

I cried out to God, in my head: Help! Somehow, I knew he said, Deuteronomy 31:8. I fished out my Bible, found my way to Deuteronomy, not knowing what it might say. This is what I read: ‘The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.’

That is the motto I live by, the words on which I base my life.

I just pruned two bushes outside of my prayer window, it seems, and yet twigs already are stretching up and out again! Sunshine and showers tease a summer growth spurt, and somehow the shock of a pruning also stimulates shoots to shoot.

We live in challenging days, on many levels. Ours has been a challenging week, a week of loss and pain, a week of joy tempered by anxiety, a week in which we have felt the pruning shears of the divine gardener. Worshiping in church this morning, though, I felt joy and encouragement, surrounded by the others who are walking ‘home’ with us.

May our personal divine prunings be opportunities for spiritual growth. May we step forward in faith, not fear, inspired by the promises of our loving Lord: do not be afraid, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.

Faith over Fear

 

My blackcurrant bush is as tough as nails. It was here when we bought the house, in 1980. I rarely feed it. I have been known to harvest it by pruning all the branches bearing fruit, which horrified my neighbour, a better gardener than me, and made him declare it was finished. But no, it wasn’t finished.

I notice that again this year, though the plum tree has only a couple of plums, the rhubarb is spindly, and the cherry trees are pretty barren, the blackcurrant bush is loaded and the fruit is dark.

What makes it so impervious to adverse weather, and inadequate nurture? No idea, but I do wish it were the same for some of the other stuff in the garden.

Still, it is amazing the way bushes lie dormant and then, when the time is right, they produce flowers and fruit.

Do not be afraid, Jesus said, time after time, echoing Biblical directives which had been pronounced through the years. Do not be afraid. Look what the Father does in nature. Look at the way he feeds the birds. Look around. He loves you. Take time to look around, take it in, and believe it. Blossom. Produce fruit. Be still.

Faith over fear.

Easier said than done sometimes, in some situations. Today I pray for all those gripped by fear and anxiety: may the peace of Christ be a balm to your soul today, allaying fear, raising hope, bringing joy.

Let it blow!

 

Developers are hoping to construct a windfarm with the tallest windmills in the UK, less than a mile from our home. They would tower over our area, affording a view from the top that would stretch  twenty miles to the North Sea. There is active consternation being channelled into the resistance movement, which is, curiously enough, spearheaded by many who are active environmentalists.

One of the arguments against the construction of this apparently-green proposal is that Scotland does not have the infrastructure for the energy gathered from the windfarms already in existence, let alone this proposed gargantuan one. Another is that offshore windfarms are more efficient. Another is that the landowner is eager to sell for this purpose because it will generate for him a staggeringly large annual income.

Often when we drive across country here, we see windmills which are not moving, despite others in the vicinity spinning in the wind. I don’t know if that’s because the static ones are undergoing repairs, or are just not catching the wind, or are turned off because there is no infrastructure available to deal with any energy they might generate.

The wind of the Spirit blows where it will. It generates love and joy and peace, kindness and goodness and faithfulness, gentleness and perseverance. Let it blow on me, let it blow on me, let the mighty love of God inspire and move me to actions large and small.

 

Balmy breezes

 

A balmy breeze with a gentle caress rather than a cutting edge: a perfect summer’s afternoon and evening in Scotland today. After a lovely day with family, we took a quiet stroll down the road, watching the swallows swoop and soar at incredible speeds, pausing to chat to some beautiful cows, curiously gathering at the stone dyke to check our progress. The bark of a deer or fox echoed from the nearby woods. The sun was still in our eyes as we turned back towards home, almost half past eight. I love these long summer evenings.

Be still and know that I am God.

I am still hanging with that verse. A sabbath day’s rest gives a person time to be still. Despite the terrible heartbreak of a dear friend’s sudden death this last week, there has also been news to celebrate: a graduation and engagement. Walking through this world, so aware of the awful sadness and tragedies all around, it is so important to be still, and know that He is God.

All will be well. As challenging as it may be, keeping one’s eyes fixed on things above, on the Lord and Creator of the universe, our loving Saviour and holy friend: this keeps the Light shining in the darkness.

Be still and know.

I know the plans

 

Celebrating local notables. I had half an hour to spend between appointments, so I dipped into the local library, and discovered the museum downstairs.

I loved the exhibits celebrating local musical legends, Scots fiddler and composer Scott Skinner and others from the area, like Paul Anderson, who continue the creative tradition. I enjoyed the natural history display of local wildlife. A focus on ancient archaeology of the area revealed a variety of anthropological treasures found at Drum Castle, where I worked for awhile. And then there were some local sporting successes, including Ben Kilner, international snowboarder, a friend of ours and a great human being. I finished with a board of other locals who had helped shape history, including a woman (whose name I’ve forgotten already, boo) who was a key person in the suffragette movement of last century.

The subjects didn’t go all the way back to St Ternan, who brought the gospel to this area, perhaps because his legacy is living in the faith of the many Christians living here, and can’t be confined to a display cabinet or board.

What a wonderful way to spend a half hour, learning more about this beautiful section of the world.

I know the plans I have for you, the Lord says, plans for good. God has an idea of what each of us can achieve, who each of us can be, in this creation he has given us to live in.

May I be all that I can be today, whether or not I am ever mentioned on a museum display!

Happy 4th!

 

Cloudy but bright, the hope of sunshine on this 4^th of July. I’m going for the glass half full today, having been more likely, yesterday, to have looked out and thought, cloudy – probably going to rain.

So many challenges in the larger world today; so many confusions and sorrows in private lives: it is easy to slide into a negative frame of mind.

Lord, I lay it all at your feet today, trusting that you make everything beautiful in its time. Thank you.