Virtual Church

All over the world, we believers congregate virtually, tuning in on YouTube or Zoom, Skype or something else. Some of it is chaotic. Confusing even. We’re not all techno marvels but it was wonderful this morning to connect, to see the smiles of faith family who we love so much and miss.

Having missed the link to the worship before the service, we worshiped in song after. It was so moving and powerful. I sensed that Church is on the move. Together we are moving forward following the light. What was on either side was unclear. Where we were headed was not visible. But the path was alight and we were on it, moving together, as one, making music in our hearts as we praised and loved the Lord with our voices, with our spirits.

So many green shoots are appearing. We just need to keep vigilant and keep moving. We follow the God of hope. We are filled with the spirit of love and power and life. We lift Jesus up, our Saviour and King.

Have a wonderful Sunday.

Maranatha!

An unexpected gift arrived this morning in the post. Unexpected, unnecessary (because we love the senders even without the gift...) but the spot-on matching of its contents with our preferences made me smile. These dear friends know our weakness – dark Belgian (or Swiss, or ...) chocolate. Thank you, Ivan and Ksenia!!

At this time of year we remember an unexpected gift that arrived one night in a manger. I say unexpected, but actually the Jewish people had long expected a Saviour but were looking in a different place – a palace – and were expecting a more conventional King. 

Jesus is God’s gift to us, born in a manger 2,000 years ago, and born in our hearts often in unexpected ways, at unexpected times. 

His coming, though, is absolutely necessary for peace to reign on earth, in you and me, and goodwill to inspire women and men. At this time of turmoil in the world and encroaching darkness, when many of us lead lives of stress and anxiety, the cry goes up again. Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus, Prince of Peace.

Sheltering

Great sermon in BTW yesterday which has left me with an indelible image of a mother hen drawing her chicks in tight, sheltered under her wings, in times of danger. The truth that God is just such a mother hen, longing to draw us in close and protect us through whatever trials we are suffering, is just so amazing. The fact that Jesus wept over our failure to allow him to draw us in – he wept because so many of us stubbornly insist on sticking it out alone. 

Maybe I’m just weak, or he has blessed me with faith, but I know that I have pulled in close to God many times in my life and let him shelter me through the storms. During times of illness and bereavement. Years of various teenage rebellions and struggles. Disappointments when dreams have apparently died. Homesickness. Uncertainty. Gosh, the list is endless. (I hope he’s not getting a bit fed up with this ‘chick’ who cuddles in so often!)

Praying yesterday for the world. Just saying the names of various countries conjures pictures of terror and suffering, fear and torment: Syria, Turkey, Ukraine, Nigeria, Sudan, Iraq, Iran, North Korea, Vietnam ... the list is long. 

There is a story in the Old Testament about a king whose troops are surrounded by the enemy and it seems there is no hope. He calls his warriors to pray and leads them in prayer, saying, memorably, ‘Lord, we don’t know what to do. But Lord, our eyes are on you.’

In the apparently intractable troubles of your life and mine today, let’s pull in close to God and pray, ‘Lord, we don’t know what to do. But Lord, our eyes are on you.’ Amen.

Reflected Glory

It was just after 7.30 am and I was walking east, facing a red line on the horizon. No sun yet. Boy are we slipping fast towards winter’s darkness.

It was crisp and cold, a still silent world. We were in a hurry – well, I was – as I’d fed one B&B guest, had another to feed still, and 4 batches of scones to bake for Friday coffees today. But hey, I’m a woman, and I might even paint my toenails while I fry the eggs.

I turned back towards home, wondering where my nail polish was (only kidding...), and began the walk west. No imminent sunrise being announced on that horizon. And yet – there was a glow on the land, a reflected glory of what was going on behind me.

We who are facing the Light – all we can pray for is that those whose faces are turned away from it will see in us the reflected glory of the King of Kings.