Hard-bitten

The frost bites hard. Minus ten this morning. Denuded trees stand frozen and bare. Birds hop over the icy earth, sharp beaks pecking, searching for food.

Winter is here, but thankfully not forever. The shortest day has passed and we are on the trajectory towards warmth, growth and renewal.

Events in life can plunge us into winter. They can freeze our ability to relate to others, to communicate, to share and be transparent, to allow ourselves to be vulnerable. It’s important to allow the love of God to massage the hurts and sorrows, restoring a normal blood flow and strengthening our faith in him. However hard it is, we can make the choice to let God thaw the core of our beings where the hurt has taken up residence. Otherwise, there is a danger that we move forward outwardly, apparently moving into a springtime after a winter event, while inwardly we remain frozen in fear. 

There is no fruit for others if winter prevails in our core.

Fear is our greatest enemy, driving out faith and hope and trust in the God who is love. Fear cripples relationships and destroys lives.  

Do not be afraid, God says. I have come to give you life in all its fullness, Jesus promises. The joy of the Lord is your strength, not a joy we can work up in ourselves but a joy which he gives as we ask and wait.

May the winter of our sorrows give way to the spring of hope and promise, restoring life and light and reviving relationships.

Letting Go

She knew where she was going when she drove away at 7.45 am. To the church where she had gone for half a century, only a couple of miles away.

After church she drove ... home. Only it was different. The house was empty apart from some random bits of furniture and closets stuffed with the left-overs of life. Her confusion grew. Where was she supposed to be? How could she get there?

A kind neighbour saw her, recognised she was lost and phoned a relative of hers, who reminded her that several weeks ago she had moved to a sheltered housing scheme. The neighbour led her back there, but left her in a different area of parking lot, not recognising the totality of forgetfulness going on.

Half an hour later an employee of the sheltered complex recognised her and shepherded her back to her home. Traumatised no doubt, and revealing the need now to move on. To let go of the car keys and relinquish driving forever.

Letting go is never easy. It is easy to cling on to the familiar because it is familiar. We feel it represents part of our identity. To let go implies to launch out into the unknown and perhaps be lost.

Yet paradoxically it can be that in letting go, rather than being lost, one is found. One is found because one becomes more fully involved in the new life, having lost that escape route which seemed to offer a return to normality.

Before the birth of our first child, we couldn't wait until her birth so that we could get back to 'normal'. We quickly realized, after her birth, that we were facing a new normal. Nothing would ever be as it was, but it was good. It was all good.

Mhairi has told me about a mime exercise where you act out the letting go, demonstrating that it is only as you properly let go of whatever you cling to that you are able to grasp fully where you are going.

It takes courage to move on. It takes courage to let go, at whatever stage of life we are. Jesus repeated over and over, 'Do not be afraid.'  'Take heart'. 'I am with you always.'

May you be encouraged and encourage others today as we all walk this journey home. Let go. Move on. Who knows what special times lie just around the corner?

Take heart. Don't be afraid. Psalm 63:8... 'My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.'

God is the only one to whom we should continue to cling throughout life.

Comfort is King. Really?

The sun beams a smile out of the clear blue sky yet again. Could this be a real summer? Sitting in the cool of my living room (usually the perishing cold...but today pleasantly cool!), I am thinking about the aspirations of most people in the world – to live in the sort of comfort and peace in which I live.

An earthly paradise.

The trouble with that sort of an aim is its short-termism. Jesus calls us to live on the edge, to walk with the poor and marginalised, to feed the hungry, to reach out to those in the gutters, to lobby for those suffering injustice and persecution. He doesn’t call us to settle down into an earthly paradise, nor even to aim to create one for ourselves.

Even in our churches, we can be more concerned with the ambiance of the worship space than with the worship itself – which may in fact be more genuine when we are away from the worship space and mingling with the lost and hurting. 

It’s tempting, and too easy, to settle. It seems to be our default mode – to work out a routine and then settle into it, secure in the boundaries we’ve drawn. 

Peter, alarmed by the figure of Jesus walking on the water, cried out – ‘If it’s you, Lord, tell me to come out of the boat!’ When Jesus confirmed he was indeed Lord, Peter confidently climbed over the side and walked on the water. As long as he kept his focus on Jesus, he continued to walk on water, doing the miraculous not because he was holy or righteous but because his eyes were on and his trust was in Jesus. When he allowed the noisy wind to disturb his calm, he began to sink back into the ordinary, into the natural. Fear overcame faith.

Do not be afraid, God repeats throughout the Bible.

Today, whatever lies before me, I pray that I might keep my eyes on Jesus and step out of the boat. I don’t want to pursue comfort. I want to pursue Jesus.