Hot Cookies

I must have touched a hot cookie sheet during the Christmas baking, as I notice the line of a burn-scar on my thumb. 

It is a reminder of happy days, baking Christmas cookies with Mhairi, Doug and Felicity. Does it bother me that the trigger for the memory is the mark of a painful burn? Not at all.

Sometimes things which bring us pain, serve to remind us of good moments. I don’t remember the burn, but I do remember the laughter as Flick merrily dumped most of the coloured sugar onto one or two cookies. I do remember the chat as we rolled out the candy canes. I do remember the smiles as we rolled out another batch of pecan crisps. Good memories.

All things work for good for those who love God, Scripture tells us. Not all pains are as inconsequential as the burn on my thumb, though, and I’m conscious that some pain is searing and carries anguishing consequences. But my trust and hope are in the loving God who is with us in every pain, major or minor, who weeps with us and who then works to create something beautiful from within the new normal. 

Praying that 2017 will bloom with beauty as it unfolds for us all, whether germinated in joy or pain.

Christmas is not in the boxes; it's in the hearts

That’s it. Christmas boxed up for another year. A duster flung round the rooms, hoover crawled over the carpet, and a pile of cards from wonderful friends and family sitting here ready to go into baskets for prayer fodder in the coming months.

Christmas chez nous was busy, noisy and fun, what with a toddler granddaughter and two baby grandsons. But underneath the joy and celebration droned a bass-line of grief, grounding us in the reality of the Christmas story. 

Yes, it’s about a new baby, bringing new life for us all. But Jesus was born into a time like this, with a crescendo-ing bass-line of political unrest, religious struggles, refugees, poverty and sorrow and grief. 

So while we are putting the boxes back into the attic, the baby born afresh into our hearts this year is more needed than ever. Christmas is not in the boxes; it is in the hearts. As Jesus grows in my heart today, and every day for the next twelve months, I pray that I would be transformed to conform more closely with his grace, his mercy, his love and his truth. 

I pray that what I will have boxed up and put away, not in an attic but in a deep dark pit from which there is no return, are negative and critical attitudes, a loose tongue too quick to pronounce judgment, a heart too small to welcome in the vulnerable, and a faith that entertains a doubt about God’s goodness and love.

How can I doubt his goodness and love, when he has given us his heart?

May 2017 be a year of growing revelation and deeper love, for our fellow creation and for our Creator.