Peace returns

A room full of people. A blanket of sound, occasionally lifted by a tinkling of laughter or the joy in a raised voice. Indistinct faces but the pressure of a crowd, weighing in. A lack of focus; a dimness of light; the sense of needing to keep doing. Through the din I sense a knocking at the door and I open it. Light floods in with the one who was knocking. Focus is restored. Peace returns. Joy begins to bubble once more.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Come, Lord Jesus

Into every broken heart this morning, Lord, pour your healing balm. Into the uncontrolled sobbing, may your peace break through. Peace beyond understanding. Peace which makes no sense, except that it is grounded in you. Into the emptiness of bereavement, may you fill the space. Into the agony of ‘what ifs’, may your presence drive out the trauma. Into the darkness of terror, let there be light.

‘Give ear to my words, O Lord, consider my sighing. Listen to my cry for help, my King and my God, for to you I pray. In the morning, O Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation.’ (Psalm 5)

Wait in expectation. I wait in expectation. The whole creation groans, waiting in expectation. Come, Lord Jesus. Come.

Granite or Glass?

I live in an old house with granite walls. Thick granite walls, which serve to keep the cold in, summer or winter. Today the sun shines bright out of a brindled sky, but sitting at my table, I feel the cold.

A few years ago we built on a glass porch, a small conservatory. It is freezing and unusable in the winter but it doesn’t take much sunshine to heat the room up beautifully. As I sit freezing in the living room, I know that the temperature in the conservatory will be pleasantly toasty.

I want the walls of my heart to be like the glass walls of the conservatory, so that the love, truth, light and warmth of the Son permeates it easily. I find, though, that sometimes I retreat into the granite interior. I can be indifferent rather than compassionate. I can be selfish rather than selfless. I can be greedy rather than generous. I can be judgmental rather than understanding. I can choose to be blind to those things that challenge my comfort zone.

Forgive me, Lord, for making such choices. May the walls of my heart be thin glass, softly permeable to the light of your love. May I never choose hardness over compassion, blindness over sight, self-centredness over selflessness. May I always be willing to go the extra mile, and may I pray without ceasing as I go through each day.

Soften my heart, Lord.