Tranquil or a Threat?

 

A decade and more ago, Don and I visited the Great Barrier Reef off Cairns, Australia. My dad had died a month before; Dad’s mom had died three weeks before: we were in Australia for the wedding of our youngest son Doug.

Heightened emotions then.

I am not comfortable on the water. Even less comfortable in the water. I’ve just never been any good at swimming, despite many lessons and attempts.

All glory to God, who enabled me to relax and absolutely love the experience of entering the warm waters twenty-five miles out to sea. That’s a different story from what I’m thinking of this morning, but all glory to Him for gifting me an experience of a lifetime.

As I snorkelled (for the first and only time in my life), the waters on the surface were choppy and rough, as a hurricane was brewing. When I rested my facemask on the waters, though, the sight which met my eyes was one of serenity and calm and beauty, with a cornucopia of fish of all colours and shapes and sizes weaving in and out of the corals.

It was a scene of tranquil perfection.

And yet, we were attired in onesies as barriers to any box jellyfish which might brush past, and warned we might glimpse reef sharks or other slightly alarming fish. Neither Don nor I saw anything but beautiful creatures.

But that doesn’t mean there weren’t predators around, with evil intent.

I’ve been reminded this week of the presence of dark spiritual predators in our world, perhaps closer than we imagine. I’ve been awakened to the reality of the forces which Paul warns of so eloquently in his letter to the Ephesians.

Lord, please sharpen my vision and give me the gift of discernment, so that I can more accurately target the predators in my neighbourhood, in my circle of friends, in my family. Thank you, Jesus, that there is no match for you anywhere in the universe. Thank you that you have defeated evil at the cross. Help me to live in the reality of my life today, seeing things as you see them, and taking on and defeating any force that would kill or destroy one of your precious ones.

Grey Skies and Rainbows

 

As I shed the heavy traffic in Glasgow and began to head north, the skies were a swirl of leaden grey clouds and blue swatches. Rounding a bend, I chuckled to see a full rainbow sprouting from one side of the motorway and arcing across it to a distant hill. This is just a beautiful sky picture: I was driving when I saw the rainbow, so couldn't capture it.

Is there any more beautiful sign of God’s promise of love and nurture, of empathy and compassion, of his presence in every detail of our lives?

Challenges will come, and they are, but ‘I’m gonna sing, in the middle of the storm’, and as I sing, the rainbows reassure me that there is power in praise, that Jesus can move mountains and that in him, the battle is won.

Have a great weekend.

Mariah

 Listening to the gusts of wind squeezing through the gaps, whipping the bushes against the windows, echoing down the chimney. Storm Agnes they’ve named these winds. A couple of years ago, Storm Arwen roared through Scotland from the wrong direction, breaking millions of trees and wreaking devastation across the countryside. 

As a child, gathered round a campfire with others my age, we would sing a song with the line, ‘They called the wind Mariah’. It was a song that conjured images of lonely cowboys in hostile territory clumped round a fire, listening warily for wolves and mountain lions and wishing for home. 

Interesting that we name winds and storms and hurricanes. 

We were created for relationship, and we often look in the wrong places, imagining that we can interact with inanimate weather phenomena. We often anthropomorphise animals too, as anyone with wee kids knows. Or even trains and cars. 

We were made for relationship. In the garden of Eden, the first man and woman walked in the garden with God every evening. One imagines they chatted and laughed, maybe shared deep thoughts and dreams. They had a bond, a bond of love that was strong and absolute. 

The worst thing about the fall from grace was the breaking of that bond, of that relationship.

Praying today for all who are lonely, and for all who are bereft of meaningful relationships. The good news is that Jesus promised never to leave or forsake us, a huge promise redolent of comfort and love, hope and peace. Relationship with him is everything.

Recalculating

 At the roundabout, take the first exit, my gps instructed this morning as I drove Ava to nursery. 

But no, I said to Ava, usually I take the second exit. I followed my instinct rather than the gps. Which got us to the nursery, eventually, but only after spending some time sitting in stationary traffic.

Sometimes in life, I think I know the way. I’ve done this before, I think. This is the way I’ve done it. I ignore, or don’t even listen to, that still small voice which is whispering urgently to me…This is the way: walk in it. 

I end up at my destination, eventually. But perhaps I have gone through more hold ups and ordeals than God had chosen for me. He knows the better way.

May I be more thoughtful today before striking out in the old paths. May I remember to go to God in everything, so that I am not held up in detours and blockages and heavy situations. And so that I don’t miss out on the delights he might have in store for me on a new route. 

Little foxes

 Last time I was here, I was awoken by a skulk of foxes. 

Sitting here now as the rain drums a cadence on the window, I am thinking of a verse from Song of Solomon, 2:15. Catch us the foxes. The little foxes that spoil the vines.

As I tend the garden in which God has put me, I am often distracted by thoughts and actions which disturb and threaten to deface the beauty, uproot trust and undermine faith. May I keep my eyes trained on Jesus

 today and always, and allow my Father the gardener a free hand in keeping the garden of my thoughts, emotions and spiritual landscape flowering, fruiting and flourishing.

Catch the little foxes, Lord.  The little foxes that spoil the vines.

Small Things

 

Today our eldest grandchild turns 9.

How can that be? It seems only yesterday she was born, and we were smitten. I hadn’t suspected I would be so overwhelmed with love for a grandchild.

Flick led the way for eight more to follow, and each time, we were smitten.

Don’t despise the day of small things, Scripture advises: God transforms the small things in our lives into beautiful works of creativity and genius. Who knows what his plans are for these young ones, his good and perfect plans?

May God bless the socks off these young ones, and those in your lives. May they face the storms of life with courage and faith, trusting that in everything, God holds the keys. May they be filled with the Holy Spirit of God, alive to the direction Jesus is moving, and alert to the whisper of the Father.

Happy birthday dear Felicity, halfway around the world.

Winter approaches

 

Seven hundred years of ownership. Seven hundred years.

Not that we’ve been owned, but the estate on which we live has been owned by the same family, generation after generation, since the time of Robert the Bruce.

So the Laird and his Lady treated us lesser mortals to a piece of pizza, a glass of prosecco, a piper, bonfire and fireworks last night to celebrate with them. He expressed the thought that they might just carry on another seven hundred years…

We milled around with our neighbours, layered against the cold.

Community. We were made to live our lives together, not staring into devices, alone in our rooms or cars. Churches are great gathering places, but with so few committed believers these days we need to find other ways of being with people who share some sort of connection, even if it is nothing more than living in the same neighbourhood.

The world will know you believers, Jesus said, by the way you love one another.

May I live my life as Jesus did, lit from within by his love and light.

 

Yesterday

 

Yesterday I wrote about hearing the still small voice of God in the beauty of creation and people. This morning I’ve been soaking in YouTube praise music: what a gift of God to be reminded that ‘you made a way when there was no way, and I believe I’ll see you do it again.’ We may be living at a time of great upheaval and change, but we are also living at a time of great blessing with our access to worship music and encouraging, inspiring words at the touch of a key.

There are three situations I’m in at the moment which are beyond me. (Probably I’m kidding myself: there are more than three, I’m sure!) All I can do is look up and keep praising. ‘You’ve never failed me yet. I never will forget.’

Jesus is the same yesterday, today and forever. I am so grateful.

My eyes are trained on him, with expectation of seeing the waters open. Scary but exciting.

May God bless you today with reminders that he has never failed you yet, and never will.

Short Summer

 

The short summer is rapidly segueing to autumn. I stare out my window at the rowan berries, profuse and heavy. The pastel shades of autumn crocus catch my eye. These fragile flowers, forgotten by me, surprise me each year when they appear.

Gifts of beauty, with perhaps no other purpose than to bring a smile to my face, a skip of joy to my heart. They took no work, and require no work now. I won’t make jelly with the rowan berries: wouldn’t know what to use it with. I won’t try to figure out how you get saffron from the stems of these crocus.

I will simply enjoy them. I will sit and stare, drinking in the beauty, asking God to whisper to me in his still, small voice.

Perhaps that is the meaning of apparently meaningless beauty: to draw our attention so that we pause from the clamour of life, so we listen for the gentle voice of God.

May I pause many times today, alert to notice the signature of the Lord in the landscape in which I live. May I notice it not just in the natural landscape, but also in the welcome from the hairdresser, the smile from the grocery clerk, the cheery greeting of the postman.

May I be more aware this day of the many gifts of beauty and love showered all around me, than of the relentlessly depressing news droning on about flawed leaders, violent injustices, and impending disasters.

God bless your day.

Words, Words Words

 

‘Words, words, words, I’m so sick of words!’ I love the classic movie, My Fair Lady. I have very fond memories of watching it with my parents and sister, and of listening to the LP many times in my childhood home. Eliza Doolittle’s outburst against words sprang from her frustration with empty words, spoken by a soppy suitor, Freddie. But the real source of her frustration with words stemmed from being the object of a heartless experiment to retrain her London street-accent and transform her pronunciation to RP, impeccable enough to convince the Professor’s aristocratic mother and friends of her acceptable origins.

James cautions believers to be careful, not with their pronunciation but with their choice of words. We can so easily wound others by a hastily-spoken observation or criticism.

I love words, though. I am so grateful that my mother tongue, (English, obviously), has an enormous choice of words, often drawn into it from foreign languages. There is a richness and diversity which add colour and depth to communication.

In the beginning was the Word: the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.

We don’t really need a dictionary of words. We only need the one Word. Jesus.

There is no more meaningful, rich and nuanced word than Jesus.

May I choose my words carefully today, both as I write and as I speak, so that all my communication springs from a place of love, of kindness, of gentleness, of compassion and empathy.

Sunday Morning

 

Sunday morning. I up my game on Sunday when I choose what to wear, but usually the starting point is: how cold is it today? This is the northeast of Scotland.

There is what we in CA used to call a ‘fall nip’ in the air. It may be sunny, but don’t be fooled. So I discarded thoughts of a dress and went for nice trousers, sweater and blazer.

Helen welcomed me at the door of the church. ‘Oh, you look so American!’

Do I? Did I?

I realised that, in fact, the three things were all purchased from discount houses in California, over the years. But why did they look American?

I don’t know. Neither did Helen. Maybe they didn’t.

But it made me think about perceptions. I’m not bothered about what nationality I look like, but I do want my words and actions to identify me as a follower of Jesus Christ.

That thought segued into the theme of our service: the refreshing and renewal of our minds as we let them be transformed by the Holy Spirit. We were encouraged to train ourselves to think of those things listed in Philippians 4, (whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, praiseworthy) and to rest in the Lord so that we can perceive Kingdom reality and not be dragged into the negative and cynical mindsets our natural thoughts would entertain.

And so the recurring prayer of my life goes on: please, Lord, let my default thinking be that of Jesus Christ, so that my words, actions and reactions will glorify him.

Juicy Fruit

 

The season of plums. Victoria plums.

A month or two ago, Don and I stood beneath the plum tree, hoping to see a good crop of the fruit forming. We saw very few plums. Maybe half a dozen.

So disappointing. Last year we had an amazing crop. We love them raw, or stewed on our cereal at breakfast. They freeze well and give a taste of summer in the depths of winter.

But this year we had low expectations of enjoying many plums at all.

However, Don brought in a second harvest of them last night. Lovely and plump, blushing pink and juicy. Not enough to freeze any, but enough to enjoy now. There are still a few ripening in the autumn sunshine.

Jesus is looking for fruit in my life. When I look at my life, I see only a small crop of beautiful fruit, for whom I am so grateful. But Jesus sees those tiny buds which are still nascent, still forming behind a flutter of leaves. Some for whom I pray; some who I perhaps don’t even know.

Jesus is the gardener who will bring in the final harvest of my life. I am so grateful that I don’t have to do the final reckoning. My job is to keep my feet on the path of truth, my eyes on the hope assured because of Jesus. To fertilise my words with wisdom and love, my actions with kindness and patience, my outlook with faith and hope.

I love you, Lord. All my life you have been faithful. I will sing today, and every day, of the goodness of God.

Bucolic Bliss

 

I sit down at my desk and glance at the list beside my computer.

The to-do list you will always have with you, Jesus said.

Did he?

No, of course not, but he could have.

Earlier, when I sat down in my prayer window this September morning, I gazed out at the bucolic peace beyond the autumn finery on the driveway. Cows grazing luxuriant grass. No bellowing. No jostling. Focused on one thing: getting enough nourishment.

Contrast that with the skulk of restless foxes the other morning. They’d woken me with their disturbing cries. They shifted position warily, constantly on edge, jumpy, alert to every noise.

May I be like the cows today, Lord, content and trusting. May I never be like the wary foxes, nerves jangling, unsure and anxious.

I will never leave you nor forsake you, Jesus promises us. May that truth sink deep into my psyche, and yours, today, so that whatever the day may dish up, I know I don’t have to face it alone.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and our minds in Christ Jesus.

Thank you, Lord.

 

Fallen

 

‘Look at my leg!’ my friend invited me. She rolled up her jeans and revealed a purpling, swollen leg pocked and dotted with scarlet.

She’d fallen over last week walking her dog. Doesn’t know how it happened or why. Nobody else was around. She just fell.

Thankfully, no bones were broken and she was able to limp home on a swelling ankle.

It is easy to mis-step in life, to lose one’s balance and find oneself floored and bruised, or worse. Innocent actions can lead to unpleasant consequences. Why?

Jesus alerted his followers, ‘In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world!’

Not all consequences are the result of our sin. Some of them are simply because we live in this fallen world, where we have trouble.

Whatever the trouble, Jesus is the answer. He is the way, the truth and the life. And as we shelter in him, even in the trouble, we are encouraged, assured of his love.

So if you’re feeling bruised and swollen today, take heart. Jesus has overcome the world. By grace we have been saved.

A Skulk of Foxes

 

A visitor myself, I was startled awake by an agonised, pained cry from outside. It was just past six am, and the street had yet to rouse. I lay still, listening, wondering.

Again it came, prolonged, pitiful. Opening the curtains, my eyes widened as I watched a skulk of foxes hanging around on the divide between houses. (Yes, a skulk! Isn’t that an evocative word?)

We have lived in a rural setting for over forty years, and I rarely see one fox, let alone a skulk of them! But there they were on the outskirts of Glasgow, looking like a few dissolutes hanging out together outside a bar somewhere.

There are cries of pain in all sorts of unlikely places in our world today. This morning, hearing the news, I know there are cries of pain and grief in Morocco as they get to grips with the aftermath of a powerful and deadly earthquake. Floods in Hong Kong; wildfires in Greece, California, Texas and Oregon. Oregon? I thought it rained all the time there…

There are cries of pain inflicted by hardened aggressors all over the world, too. Skulks of people with evil intentions in positions of power. Inflicting pain. Pain: physical and emotional, mental and spiritual, as innocents suffer at the hands of these dissolutes in places of authority.

The other morning, I rustled the curtains and knocked on the window and the foxes, with wary glances my way, scuttled off across the street, into the bushes of the opposite house. Would that the warmongers could be as easily disbanded.

May I never walk away from situations I encounter, or which suddenly overtake me. Keeping my eyes steadfastly on the Lord of Hosts, Jesus Christ, may I pray constantly for this groaning, hurting world. ‘We have erred and strayed like lost sheep,’ and the foxes are hunting. Forgive us, Lord. Help us to walk in your ways, with hearts of compassion, eyes of love, minds transformed by your Holy Spirit.

Maranatha. Come, Lord Jesus.

He rides shotgun

 

The stillness of a summer morning. Late summer morning. A light breeze barely brushes the plentiful orange rowan berries. Even the birds seem hushed by the beauty.

Before me lies a busy week, but for this moment, I rest in the peace of a green landscape bathed in the glow and glare of uninterrupted sunshine.

Come away with me, Jesus invites us. I will give you the rest you need. I will refresh and restore, renew and restart you. Come away with me and rest.

I hear of so many situations, so many reasons for anxiety and apprehension. Jesus walked through horrendous situations of threat and danger; he walked through them not just in peace but in power, not just in confidence but cheerfully.

For the joy set before him, Jesus could face the cross and see beyond it. I am so grateful that I am not facing any such testing situations as he did. And I am so grateful that whatever the day and week hold, Jesus is riding shotgun with me.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. May you, too, spend a moment to rest and be refreshed, to be encouraged and assured that whatever it is, wherever you are, Jesus is with you.

Sunday

 

Sunday. I love Sunday. I love gathering with others in our church, sharing each other’s burdens, laughing with each other, sometimes shedding tears.

We all need community. We were made for community. Don’t give up gathering with other believers, Paul told his friends. The world will see Jesus when it sees how we love each other. In these days, (maybe as in former days), when some churches hit the headlines for all the wrong reasons, we want to remain steadfast and true, quietly revealing the glory of the Lord through lives laid down in love.

May you have a blessed week.

Quiet Beauties

 

A quiet walk on a quiet morning, the first of September but it feels as settled as a good summer day. We walked beneath a canopy of trees, hearing the birdsong trilling above us. Leaves are beginning to fade and change as summer slips into history. The feather-light down of dying thistles are highlighted in the sun before a breeze scatters the seeds far and wide.

Turning into our drive, I notice the ageing sign, behind it rising the historic Hill of Fare, on which a company has designs to plant over a dozen towering windmills. I’m passionately in favour of green energy, but as I’ve written before, this proposal, if built, will have no infrastructure to carry away the energy generated. It’s a whitewash of the government’s green credentials.

Enough of that rant. It’s too beautiful a morning. I was just reflecting on the fading beauties all around me.

I lift my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? (not from an out-sized windfarm…) My help is in the name of the Lord, who has made heaven and earth. And what a glorious world he has given us to steward. May we each do a better job of it today than we did yesterday.