Rest in the Shadow

 

The two-lane coastal road from Stonehaven to Auchmithie Beach winds through farmland, golden in its early autumn glory. Farmers, busily bringing in the harvest, grind along in their big tractors pulling even bigger harvest machinery.

Behind them follows a parade of smaller vehicles. There are few stretches of road straight enough to safely overtake.

Be still and know that I am God.

Sometimes we need to accept a slower pace in life. Perhaps we are caring for someone older or sick. Perhaps we are parenting a growing family. Perhaps we ourselves are not well.

When we stop agitating about the impediment to our zipping quickly from here to there and getting a lot of things done, we are free to appreciate the scenery or the people we are with.

We are set free to be still and appreciate God. To enjoy his quiet company. She who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

May our days be punctuated with periods of peace and rest in the shadow of the Almighty, whether by choice or otherwise.

Rock of Ages

 

‘Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord, is the Rock eternal.’ (Isaiah 26:4)

There is nothing boring or uniform about the shoreline at Auchmithie Beach. It is composed of a carpet of smooth stones of various hues and sizes. It isn’t a beach for a long walk. It’s a beach for a jerking progress from one end to the other, where there are some shallow caves and larger boulders on which to sit. On which to sit and contemplate, to sit and stare glakit at the rhythmic flow of the sea, to sit and pray.

Surrounding the larger boulders are much smaller rocks, polished smooth by the tides, tossed around by the storms that buffet the beach sometimes. They are a beautiful rainbow of colours.

I brought home nine of these stones as a souvenir of the day. I chose nine – one for each of my grandchildren. They now sit at the garden door, a reminder (as if I needed it) to pray for each of these precious ones, that they will trust in Jesus always.

I love that the stones are smooth. The rough edges have been broken off by the storms. They have been honed and polished by the flow of life. I pray that as my precious grandchildren go through whatever storms await them, they will emerge with their faith in the Rock eternal intact, with their lives anchored in Jesus.

Jesus told Peter, ‘It is on this rock that I will build my church’. Peter’s faith in Jesus as Saviour was rock-solid … and yet, on the night he was arrested, Peter denied knowing Jesus three times.

Denials for which he profoundly repented, and for which he was wholeheartedly forgiven. Whatever betrayals we have committed, Jesus is always waiting to welcome us back, and when we trust in him, truly trust in him, we are stronger than ever because he is our strength.

We live in times of global tension and turmoil, agony and angst. I pray for all those whose faith is shaken today by the storms of the age, that through the tumult they will find comfort and safety in the rock of ages.

 

 

 

Walk in the Light

 

When the day is bright, the shadows are deep. As I drove south to Auchmithie Beach, glaring sunlight penetrated the canopy of trees, creating long stripes of darkness and light. The light can distract and dazzle; the darkness can hide and obscure.

The light of Jesus comes from above. It does not cause shadows; in his light there is no darkness. It does not dazzle and blind: it leads the disciple to living waters; it leads the disciple home.

There are many fraudulent sources of light by which some chart their courses. Even the Jesus follower can find herself distracted by flickers of light which purport to come from the true source of light and life.

May I walk in the light of God always, recognising the sources masquerading as the true light and instead keeping my face turned to Jesus. As a sunflower keeps its face to the sun, may my face be always turned towards Jesus.

As Aretha Franklin sang, ‘Walk in the light, beautiful light, Come where the dewdrops of mercy shine bright, Shine all around us by day and by night, Jesus (Lord Jesus) is the light of the world.’

Top Gear

 

Heading southeast for my retreat last week, I sensed God wanting me to keep the radio off and start listening. He had things to show me as we went.

As I downshifted to go up a steep brae, the sentence flashed into my mind: ‘You can’t go up a hill in top gear.’ You have to downshift, especially if you’re bearing a load.

While this seems like good, practical advice, what is the ‘God message’ in it?

I thought of Elijah, fleeing for his life from Jezebel after God’s defeat of the prophets of Baal. (1 Kings 19). The tender love that God shows Elijah is so beautiful, sending him an angel with food and a blessing of rest before recommissioning him and giving him a helper.

I’ve not taken on a Jezebel, nor stepped out on a limb for the Lord. But sometimes the uphill brae can be gradual and long. The enemy is not Jezebel but it can be losing heart, growing weary and losing energy.

God was in charge of my retreat. His gentle hand was on me as I stepped aside on the hill and found a place of rest, of beauty and refreshment. He renewed my spirit as he restored my faith that he is indeed in charge of all the details of my life.

We all need a rhythm of pauses, short pauses daily and longer pauses at intervals. May I remember the lesson that I can’t go up a hill in top gear.

 

Rock Pools

 

Time apart. Alone with God.

The Lord blessed me with a glorious, warm day on Wednesday when I headed to Auchmithie Beach in Angus. We’ve hung out together there a couple of times. It turned out to be as expected, only better. A day of rich gleanings. A day of sitting gazing at the waves, the tide, the jet trails in the blue skies. A day of listening. A day of seeing a little bit more.

I studied the rock pools left as the tide retreated, and it occurred to me that where the rock had eroded with an outlet at one end, the sea water emptied completely, leaving a clear bowl of clean stones. Where the erosion was more of a hollowing out, leaving a bowl-shaped dip, or where there was a blockage of some sort, the water never completely drained, leaving the rock pools soft with green algae, growing in stagnant and sour water.

How I need times of stepping aside and allowing the Lord to empty me of all the sour water that can stagnate within me, clogging my thinking and muddying my mind. The algae in my soul does not look pretty, to me or to Him, and it is so good to just rest in him and allow him to remove any blockages and re-open my clogged channels.

Lectio today dealt with a similar theme: regular times alone with God are the example Jesus left us, and they model a rhythm we all need. There is so much in this world to clog my mind, spirit, heart and soul, but in Jesus there is freedom. In Jesus we have a loving Saviour who invites us to dump all that muddies our thinking on him, so that we can live life to the full.

I leave all the green algae at your cross now, Lord. Cleanse me and make me new.

Season of mists

 

The mist blankets the marshy field like a thick duvet. Yet the air above harvested field beside it, dotted with pairs of straw-bale rolls, is clear and crisp.

And the road…the road traces a clear track beside the misty field, offering a crisp vista of what lies ahead.

‘Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’, wrote Keats in his Ode to Autumn. The mists swirl and the boughs hang low, bearing ripening apples which will be ready before the onslaught of winter.

May this be a day of mists and mellow fruitfulness. I am setting out on a retreat day, headed for a beach I know, looking forward to mists rising, roads being clear, and time to revel in the Father’s presence and receive his love.

May God bless your day, too, in this season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.

Not a breath of wind...

 

Not a breath of wind. Even the uppermost branches of the giant larch tree are barely moving. Peace prevails. A warming sun beams down from above; wispy white clouds stretch languorously across the heavens.

God is in control. All is well.

Global currents are chaotic, stormy and wild; distress and pain are everywhere.

I lift my eyes to the hills. My help comes from God, and when I lift my eyes to the hills, I am reminded of our loving creator. I am reminded that Jesus spread wide his arms to embrace the world he created, the people he loves. I am reminded that I am never alone, never forgotten, by the one who holds the world in his hands. I am reminded that with God, nothing is impossible, and that he always keeps his promises.

He will come again. He will make all things new. He will restore sanity and bring peace on earth, and goodwill between men and women.

It is good to pause. To gaze. To ponder and to wait. It is good to take time out from the chaos of to-do lists and shoulds and oughts. To step aside, be still, and know that He is God.

God is in control. All is well.

 

Swallows Fidget

 

Swallows fidget on the overhead lines, flitting off and then alighting again in an instinctive dance of beauty and grace. Somehow this annual ritual prepares the wee birds for the massive migration they’re about to make to South Africa.

Young cows line up at the gate as Mary and I pass by, curious to see us. Brambles blacken into a rich, juicy colour; rose hips darken and swell; leaves are beginning to turn from their greens to the fall foliage of russet, orange, yellow and brown.

Change is in the air. Despite the stillness of the day, the blue of the sky, the golden sun – there is an edge of chill causing occasional involuntary shivers.

Wait and watch.

There is a sense in which we are waiting for what we have experienced before. That which is familiar. Sometimes even derided as the same old same old.

But God is the joyful creator who delights to create new things.

May I be on my tiptoes every morning, expectant and eager to glimpse his hand in my life, doing something familiar perhaps, but in a new, and beautiful way.

Tangible Friend

 

I can stand it no longer – the frayed lining on the bathroom curtain. It’s way past time to make new ones. But with so many shops now gone from our local ‘high street’, I’ve got to do it all online. Get the fabric samples. They never look the same as they did on screen. After four attempts, I’ve finally chosen one.

Now to calculate how much fabric I need! I’ve done the online calculator. It seems straightforward enough, but I know that once they cut the fabric, it is mine, right or wrong. I hesitate, and then look for the yellowing, creased, well-used instructions on how to make curtains, from the old DIY book on how to do practically anything in the home. It’s so old I need to rework things from Imperial to metric, but I am relieved when I find it.

Holding the physical page of instructions in my hands, I sense my confidence rise. I will always be old school, preferring something I can hold to what I read on an electronic screen.

That’s probably why I never see myself reading the Bible in digital format. There is something more solid and real about a printed version. Something more beautiful in a bound book, than a device of any kind.

Doing life is a lot more complicated and important than making a new bathroom curtain. I want to linger in God’s instructions for life, maybe thumbing back or forward to where I made a wee note years ago, maybe comparing different versions.

It is just possible I might be able to de-clutter the bookshelves one day, giving away the books which I’ve enjoyed through the years. But I hope I never have to give up my Bibles, a real touch-stone with the divine Spirit of grace, source of comfort and encouragement, correction and inspiration.

 

 

 

Wait

 

I was early. (I usually am…)

Needing a couple of birthday cards, I found them in the rich display. My friend hadn’t yet arrived, so I zipped to the cash till and paid. It only took a couple of minutes.

Returning to my station by the entry door, I waited, and finally pulled out my phone to see the time. Which is when I realised she’d sent me a text: she was upstairs waiting in the café entrance.

In those couple of minutes, I’d missed her entry. I’d probably left my station just as she parked her car.

How often in life do I miss a divine appointment, simply because I multitask instead of simply waiting? Wait for the Lord, Scripture advises. Be strong; take heart, and wait for the Lord.

Easier said than done. Lord, would you teach me this skill, so that I never miss your arrival? Quell my impatience and silence my inner drive to accomplish something with every moment. Help me today to be strong, take heart, and wait for the Lord.

Hill of Fare

 

The Hill of Fare presses upward against the beauty of a cloud-streaked sky, all blues and greys and whites. An autumn sun hangs resolutely in the sky as the clouds dance and caper across its face.

Sheltering animal and bird habitats, providing recreational paths for walkers, concealing historic relics from a past battle between Mary Queen of Scots and the Duke of Huntly, the hill is rich in peat for the heather growing there, and beneath the peat lies granite containing elevated concentrations  of uranium and thorium. A hill of diverse abundance.

It is a beautiful feature of our local landscape, lying at the gate to Royal Deeside and on to the Highlands. The boundaries of my life have fallen in pleasant places.

The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it. May we preserve and respect the gifts we have been given, and be willing to invest in alternative alternatives as we seek a ‘greener’ way to live.

Braemar Games

 

Serpentine lines of traffic funnelled into the village of Braemar, coaches and cars carrying folks eager to experience the annual Braemar Highland Gathering. Nearly two hours after leaving Banchory, delayed by the traffic, our coach full of our Ukrainian friends parked and we headed into the venue. Surrounded by hills of heather, the field looked spectacular in the late summer sunshine.

The announcer kept up a running commentary of the various events on the field, from running heats, to Highland dancing competitions, to caber tossing and tug-of-war. We found a space on a hillock and settled down to watch, finding the passing visitors as interesting as the action on the field.

All around, pipers warmed their pipes, practicing their pieces for the various parades of pipe bands which punctuated the day. This is the place to enjoy the bagpipes in all their glory.

Precisely at 3 pm, cars carrying the King and Queen and others in their party arrived from Balmoral, circled the arena and the royal party settled into their seats to watch some events. After the band of the Royal Marines, and the massed pipe bands, they were taken back to their castle and the crowds began to disperse.

Over the many years I’ve been here, I’ve been to the Braemar gathering several times. Yesterday’s visit was memorable and special. We were blessed by the warm sunshine, and delighted to be with the Ukrainians as they experienced a full immersion into Scottish tradition and culture.

It offered a distraction from the tragedy engulfing their nation, a tragedy which threatens us all. May God pour out his blessings on Ukraine, restoring peace and bringing reconciliation and hope to that beleaguered nation, a nation, like Scotland, rich in traditions of costume, music and dancing.

Come, Lord Jesus, Prince of peace.

 

Sticky Beauty

 

Low cloud cover blankets our views and a dampness moistens the air. As I head out to meet my walking partner, I notice the proliferation of spider’s webs, their intricate patterns picked out with drops of dew as they sag like trampolines between the thorns and twigs of the gorse bushes. The once-invisible, deadly insect traps are revealed, enticingly beautiful.

Does this mean spiders will go hungry today? Or will less-savvy bugs (are any bugs savvy?) be attracted by the deceptive beauty and lured into the traps of sticky silk?

May the Lord reveal to me, today, any hidden traps into which I might fall accidentally, or be attracted to because of their outward beauty.

Thank you, Lord, that underneath us all are the everlasting arms, ready to catch us when we fall – catch us not into a trap of terror, but into an embrace of sacrificial love.

 

Anticipation

 

Awaiting with rising anticipation the connection with loved ones on the other side of the world. A skype call is scheduled this morning.

As I look at the rowan tree, beautiful and heavy with orange berries, the towering larch and the golden grain in the field beyond, I see the loving hand of our heavenly Father and am in awe that he – the creator and ruler of the universe – is available to me 24/7. No need for a good wifi connection, a pre-arranged time, or a self-conscious rush to put on lipstick: I can just reach out in a silent cry of joy or concern and he is there.

Praise him.

Slippage

 

The earth is constantly unstable, the sign reads. Be careful.

The cliffs are crumbling into the ocean, and now companies providing the infrastructure of modern life have cut the water, the gas, and the electricity from multi-million dollar homes perched precariously at the top. A spark occasioned by a slippage started a wildfire there, so the dangers go beyond one or two homes ‘simply’ slipping over the edge into the Pacific.

The city has asked residents to leave. Most refuse.

The area is just a few miles from where I stay when I visit Mom. Because I know the area, my interest is piqued and my concern for those affected is heightened.

Where should those displaced residents go? As their valuable investments become worthless, what should they do? I’m praying for them.

A wealthy homeowner in a story Jesus told built new barns to hold the bounty of his harvest. But within a short space of time, the farmer died. He didn’t live long enough to enjoy his amassed riches.

A stark reminder that money is best invested in others, shared out to people and situations of need or distress.

The earth is unstable, but God never changes. He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow – the God of love and compassion, mercy and forgiveness. May I invest my time and money today in the people and situations he draws me to, looking upwards and outwards and resisting building myself a castle which tomorrow may crumble.

And may all those who watch helplessly as nature or conflict or mismanagement devour their homes and livelihoods be surprised and comforted by Jesus’ saving grace and love offered through his body here on earth.

Astromice!

 

Astronauts are sometimes accompanied by astromice, who ride into space in a familiar cage, but once they escape the gravitational pull, the wee creatures have one of two reactions. Some, no doubt appalled at their weightlessness, cling for dear life to the bars of their cage. Others, however, allow themselves to float – perhaps even enjoying the sensation and experience. According to the presenter on the Radio 4 programme this morning, the terrified mice often die, whereas the adventurers survive.

I can’t vouch for the veracity of this, but I can’t help but think that when humans limit their experiences of our world through fear, they don’t enjoy life as much as those who embrace every challenge with enthusiasm.

The Bible says, hundreds of times, ‘do not be afraid’, and Jesus declares that he came so that we could have life in all its fullness. I love seeing people who are living out that freedom, either because of an innate courage and adventurer’s spirit or out of a deep faith and trust in God.

I ask God to deepen my trust in his provision and protection and guidance, so that each day can be an adventure in exploring the wonders of this creation he has blessed us with. I don’t want to be a cling-er! I want to fly, safe in my Father’s arms.