Bleeps and Buzzes

Who would have thought that a grown man or woman could move so quickly in response to a short bleep? 

But go anywhere these days and you can’t help noticing how many folks are responding to a variety of ring tones, bleeps and buzzes. 

My response is not always eager; it is often more akin to the way I answer the telephone...quite happy to let it ring but then slightly anxious that it might actually be someone I love needing me urgently.

Come away with me, Jesus invites us. Come away and just be. Be in the moment. Don’t be anxious about anything. Focus on me. 

I asked a young woman the other day what she thought about a certain church she had visited. Her response was an eager, “It changed my life.” She then proceeded to tell me about her close encounter with the living God, and how, as she focused on him, she realized just who he was, and just who she was. 

He is our Father, who loves us so much he sent his only son who he loved so much to save us. We are loved, even though we don’t deserve it. Even when we mess up. Even when we miss what he’s trying to tell us. 

And maybe we miss what he’s trying to tell us even more these days, because our ears are more attuned to certain bleeps and buzzes than they are to the voice of God. How sad he must be.

Today I’m leaving my phone inside when I go work in the garden for a wee while. And I’m going to listen for that still small voice, trusting that God can take care of the bleeps.

So if you’ve sent me a text and I’ve not responded – you know why.

Choices

We live in a self-indulgent world, and it is so easy to give in to the temptation to reward ourselves in many little and big ways. 

Last night I sank down onto the couch and picked up the iPad. I checked my emails. I had a game of Sudoku – good exercise for the brain. I scrolled through my apps. 

I opened one Robbie had put there. A site from his church in California with the most recent sermons and worship. I was surprised at the number of talks I could listen to, or music I could join in with. I clicked on one of the talks and sat for 50 minutes being refreshed and fed with challenging ideas.

I could have easily wasted those 50 minutes watching mindless telly. I was tired (when am I not tired these days?) and could have justified just slobbing out on the sofa. 

But for some reason I listened, was stimulated to thought, challenged to look deeper into some of the ideas, challenged to think more about my views and faith.

Choices are all around each of us every day. That is one of the privileges of living in the affluent west. We actually have opportunity; we actually have free time. It’s so easy to squander it.

I awoke this morning with a fresh determination to use my time wisely. It’s limited and one day it will run out, and I don’t want to regret time spent on useless, time-wasting activities.

Today I want to make the right choices.

Faithfulness

Faithfulness is a quaint concept in many people’s eyes. It’s kind of cute when applied to a dog – the epitome of faithful and unconditional love. I only need look at Dusty to think that – on the odd occasion when I’m gone for several hours, she always greets me with pure joy and no hint of reproach. 

It’s hard to see how a loving relationship between a man and a woman can survive, though, without faithfulness. In our 37 years of marriage, I suppose that trusting in my husband’s faithfulness has been one of the rocks, a given, something I never had to question. Had I suspected he was being unfaithful, that would have undermined everything. Yet (if the magazines at the hairdressers are to be believed) it seems that many marriages these days are not only scarred with unfaithfulness but there is sometimes even an expectation that both partners might indulge a wandering eye.

The Bible says ‘Know this: God, your God, is God indeed, a God you can depend upon. He keeps his covenant of loyal love with those who love him and observe his commandments for a thousand generations.’ Deuteronomy 7:9, The Message.

Now that is faithfulness. Dependability. Keeping promises. Remaining loyal. Returning love. God is love, and he can be depended on. 

That’s a rock I can stand on today. How about you?

Water, water everywhere

Water, water everywhere ...

I think I would be telling the truth if I claim that it hasn’t rained in 24 hours. That is the longest dry spell we’ve had here in Scotland for months, I should think.

Dusty and I had a ramble round the local hill this morning, and I noticed the cascading burns are less full than the last time we went, when water gurgled and splashed its way across compacted paths and spongey green banks.

The dog waited hopefully beside the stagnant pond, and I unthinkingly threw a stick in for her to retrieve. A sour smell greeted me and I invited Dusty out of that stinky water and onwards to something sweeter.

Beside a gurgling burn, s she chewed contentedly at the bark of a stick, and I listened to the cheerful chatter of the fresh water as it tumbled over rocks and tree roots. Fresh, clean water. Delicious to drink; refreshing (I imagine) to bob around in. 

Water is wonderful, despite our moans when we seem to get it too frequently pouring on us from above. Jesus invites us to come to him so that streams of living water will flow from us. Living water, not stagnant water. 

Some Christians do go to him and drink of the stream, but then fail to allow it to flow on through them into the thirsty world round about. It stagnates then, becomes sour, and no longer carries life. In fact, some water carries death – organisms which bring disease or illness. 

I am feeling tired today. Full of hay fever and antihistamines. Emotionally drained from another hard parting with my mother and my daughter, who left yesterday to return to California. 

I am going to Jesus, where I plan to drink what he gives me, and I hope that – once more refreshed – I can be a carrier of a stream of living water for others.

Levels of Protection

At last, a day without rain – well, a few sprinkles, but the sheets are drying outside for a change.

So I attacked some of the weeds which have taken over the veggie patch. Given the sort of day it is, I donned my cork hat from Australia to deter the pesky flies. I tried tying a scarf round my mouth and nose, in true Western outlaw style, but found that just too claustrophobic. 

An hour later, walking the dog through the thigh-high grass/weeds, I kept the cork hat on and held a jacket over my nose and mouth. I was trying, in vain, to keep the hayfever from breaking out, but probably the weeding had already done the job. Violent sneezing fits announced my approach to every rabbit and pheasant within earshot.

I was willing to look foolish to deter certain irritations. A hat to protect me from the rare, but warm, sun. Corks bobbing round it to repel buzzing and biting flies. And a coat held over my face to block out pollen.

The hat left my hair flat and lifeless. The corks annoyed me probably as much as they annoyed the flies as they swung and tangled in irregular patterns. The coat barricade was like closing the door after the horses have bolted. Ridiculous.

Life is full of irritations – some which are nothing more than annoying irritations, others which have consequences.

I can choose to deal with them in an unruffled fashion if I spend time focused and centred on Jesus, so that his peace fills me with a deep sense that I am safe. Or I can plough on, swatting at them and suffering the annoying consequences.

This isn’t just a theory. I know it’s true in my life. 

What I can’t really fathom is why I so often fail to choose the way of peace, and instead press on in my own inadequate strength.