Shrunken...

‘I put a wash on,’ he said helpfully. ‘I saw the pile there.’

My heart sank. That’s where ‘the pile’ always is, but usually it’s ignored. Last night, I dropped a favourite cardigan there, amongst the rest. A merino wool cardi which I planned to wash by hand.

‘Everything?’ I groaned. ‘Not the sweater…?’

He looked stricken.

It’s over now. The wash is over; the sweater has shrunk.

Why is it that when I drop or chip a mug, it’s one of the new ones and not one of the old pottery ones I’d quite like to drop? Or if the stem of a wine glass breaks in the dishwasher, it’s never one of the ancient ones the petrol station gave away decades ago?

The thing I’m reminding myself of this morning is the love with which the deed was done, not the mistake that was made. I can get another sweater; the love is priceless.

Don’t store up treasures on earth, where moth and rust and hot temperatures in washing machines can ruin them. Store them up in heaven.

Love is certainly a gift from God. I am so grateful for his love – both God’s, and my dear husband’s.

Bright

Against the winter sepia, the cock pheasant’s plumage is vibrant, glorious. He struts carefully up the driveway as soon as the coal truck has gone. He sweeps into the yard every day, at least once, to check out the seed which has fallen from the hanging bird feeders and see if any new breadcrumbs litter the tarmac.

Life isn’t easy in the frozen north, but as the landscape fades into monochrome, the pheasant keeps its bright colours.

This  morning I breathe deep, inhaling God’s love and life and presence, so that whatever sepia world I may walk through, others will see the glory of our loving Father.

Free speech, deliberate love

The sun rose on another lovely, cold autumn day. It will rise again tomorrow, whatever the day is like. Day follows night and will until Jesus winds things up and we have a new heaven, a new earth. 

So how to live in the present? Jesus gave us a good clue: stay alert. If ever we needed to live life deliberately, and with consideration, now is the time. We need to be ready to speak out and step forward and watch out for the vulnerable. To make our voices heard. 

Long may we enjoy free speech but whatever happens, we always have access to freedom of spirit. I pray that all followers of Jesus, and all those of integrity, will show patience, kindness, self-control, gentleness, and love during these days. Through the power of the Spirit, may God’s love prevail.

Wave after Wave

I just read a tweet declaring that 2014 is so unremittingly bad a year that nothing can cheer us up. 

Does time trend, like twitter does, sometimes trending bad and sometimes trending good? Maybe so. I imagine folk living through the 1914-1918 war would have thought those years were so unremittingly bad nothing could cheer them up. Same with the second world war. Depending on where you live in the world, there will be conflicts which have hit like a tsunami and overwhelmed all else – as is happening across the Middle East and in parts of Africa and Ukraine and Asia now. 

Is it unremitting though? Is there no hope? Is there nothing to celebrate?

Through it all, God’s love continues to pour over us, wave after wave of his love. If your heart is breaking, his huge heart has shattered a jillion times. He doesn’t just break his heart over the things we see. He sees the brokenness inside each of our lives and that, too, breaks his heart.

I am privileged to live in a place and at a time of peace and tranquillity. But outside of our living room and kitchen windows, I can glimpse the Hill of Fare, where a huge battle took place between Mary Queen of Scots and the Gordons from Huntly. Protestant against Catholic. This bucolic scenery would have rung out with the clang of steel on steel, the cries of the wounded and the shouts of the victorious. It must have seemed unremittingly bad to those at the time.

And through it all, God’s love will still have washed over this scene, wave after wave of his love. 

And things changed. Now it is peaceful here. Forever? I hope so, but God knows.

How often I remember the experience of snorkelling on the Great Barrier Reef the day before a hurricane hit eastern Australia. The water was beautifully warm but choppy, beginning to be stirred by the winds that were coming. It splashed in my mask when I lifted my face from the scene of peaceful tranquillity below the surface. There was an air of storminess and incipient turmoil. But as soon as I planted my mask on the surface of the water, began breathing through the tube and looking underwater, I felt part of a scene of amazing beauty and pervasive peace. It was as if the conflicting winds and waves above were not happening at all.

Through it all, through all the storms, through all the traumas, through all the unpleasantness, God’s love continues to wash over us, wave after wave of his love, of his peace, of his power. Yes, we walk through turbulent times, but with focus and determination and by the power of the Holy Spirit, we can walk in his peace and power. And the waves of his love have the power to transform any situation.

Nothing can separate us

The news is dire, augmented by links sent to me by various folk watching the brutality unfold in the Middle East. It would be easy to go downhill and feel like giving up. 

But the news has been dire before. In King Hezekiah’s time he was surrounded by a vicious army from Nineveh and he cried out to God for help. He trusted God to send in help and God did. Hezekiah knew where the real ‘big gun’ was and he went to him.

We Christians need to wake up and get on our knees and cry out to God for this world, for our brothers and sisters, and for the safety of Christianity in our own countries. We are in testing times and yet we often seem to be snoozing through them. 

With God there is always hope. Nothing can separate us from his love, Paul wrote to the Romans. Not even demons. Nothing. 

Paul also counselled his readers to pray constantly. As you drive, as you walk, as you cook. Pray for the peace of this world. Real peace. Christ-like peace. 

Nothing can separate us from God's love. Nothing.

Of Wet Walks and Signposts

We’ve not done the ‘wet walk’ for weeks, so Dusty and I slipped out of the house just after 7 and headed for the castle. 

The wet walk used to include many pauses along the way, at every small loch and bubbling burn so that I could pitch sticks into the water for this manic dog who would race down the bank and leap into the water to retrieve it. She had a habit of waiting for the second stick to be thrown before she launched herself, so that she could round up two sticks at a time and bring them back.

Past tense because now, at 13, she is more sedate in her approach to the water. There are no more wild flings into the loch, more like gentle wades, though she does still enjoy the water and could seemingly continue to retrieve sticks until my arm went into spasm. 

During our absence from this walk the rangers have made a few improvements – straightened a pathway (was that really necessary?), and tacked up a few more signposts. Blue and red arrows, depending on the walk you want. 

The thing is, though, that I know these woods, so I went ahead and ignored the new signpost. A few hundred yards later, another signpost appeared anyway, though I wasn’t on the officially designated path anymore. I guess the ranger realized there would be some rebellious types who would ignore the first arrows but might just be grateful for a second guide to indicate the way out of the woods.

Made me think of God. He gives us all signposts on the road of life. Some are subtle, some are in your face. Since he gives us free choice, we are all able to ignore their guidance and strike out in our own direction. But even when we do rebel and do our own thing, he meets us in the midst of that and gently indicates the best path for us. However many times we go against the arrows, he will still be found on whatever path we take, ‘recalculating’ the best route for us. And if we end up in the mire with no signposts in sight, we just need to look up and he’ll be there.

Some of us do our own things for years and years; others of us join in on God’s path earlier on. But whichever way we’ve chosen to take, he loves each of us so much he continues to slip ahead of us and plant another signpost, hoping that perhaps this time, the errant heart will follow.

Blinded

Perched on the kitchen stool, I waited for the others to appear so we could leave for church. I was a little early, as is my wont. I closed my eyes and sought God's presence, which I hadn't done for several days. Visiting with family, taking a 1350 mile road trip, going to a graduation, and helping prepare an old house for a repainting had filled every day with voices, laughter, serious discussion and physical activity.

So I sat, erect and inwardly thirsty, asking my heavenly Father to come. I waited, expectantly, and soon I felt the familiar tingling in my head which I have come to associate with the presence of the incredible God whom I worship and who is amazingly always ready to interact with me.

His peace and love poured into me, over me, ready to pour out through me, and I recognised once again how much I miss when I don't give him my time and attention. I inhaled slowly, lingering over the reality of his presence within me.

When I opened my eyes, I noticed the California sun filtering through some of the slats of the blind on the kitchen door. The sun was strong, revitalising, and warm, but the blind was  pretty effective in shutting it out. There were, though, a few random slats which were caught on bits of cord and slightly askew, allowing the sunlight to filter in.

I had been walking in the half light for the last few days. The blinds were down, and heaven's rays could not penetrate fully. But where there were gaps, the light of God's love shone in, prising open my sleepy heart and exciting a reminder of the awesomeness of Jesus.

The blinds are once again fully open so that the sunshine of God's love and life can blaze on my being and restore my energy and joy.

Yippee. Or as they say more formally in church, hallelujah!