Little Gems

There’s a variety of lettuce sold here in Scotland called Little Gem – which seems an overblown claim for what is, after all, just a rather limp-leafed lettuce.

I’m sitting at the table looking at the vase of carnations Don brought me the other day. I’ve always loved carnations. We had red ones at our wedding. I suppose, though, over the years other flowers have edged carnations off the top spot in my estimation. Lilies are hard to beat. A fragrant rose from the garden – nothing compares. Tulips can be fabulous.

The carnations in front of me might be called floribunda – I don’t really know. But they aren’t the single giant floral head but instead, a composition of lines of delicate, thin leaves bordering short, delicate stems with one or two small carnation heads opening at the end. There are yellows, peaches, reds. A composition of colour; not a solo.

You might say these little gems are ordinary. They’re not spectacular. They don’t trumpet their beauty with a heady fragrance, nor spread their petals wide like one of my voluptuous roses. 

But in their own quiet, modest way, they are eloquent. They speak of love. They express beauty. They bring colour into a drab season. 

I suppose we all want to be like the 118-carat egg shaped diamond recently auctioned in Hong Kong for about $30 million. Someone to be admired, oohed and aahed over. 

But the reality is that such a sparkler needs to be locked up, insured heavily, and isn’t out there to be enjoyed. Much better to be a little gem, sparkling away, bringing colour and love and beauty into many drab seasons and situations. A little gem, not hogging the limelight but content to flower in a composition of colour and line, its very humility enhancing its beauty all the more.

God’s word challenges, “Who dares despise the day of small things?” (Zechariah 4:10) Small things have a lot to be commended for. 

Little gems are precious.

Precious Treasure

The bare branches of the flowering cherry tree etch a pretty pattern against the clear blue sky outside my bedroom window. It’s a tree which was given to me when my sister died 27 years ago, and so it is special. 

This morning, after last night’s rain, there were water droplets glistening in the sunlight. Some shone like diamonds, clear and pure, but if I moved my head slightly, the diamond became a deep sapphire blue. Shifting my perspective again and it twinkled pink. 

It is winter, January, and I’m still struggling to defeat this vicious virus which clogs my eyes with thick stuff, clogs my respiratory system with similar stuff no doubt, and has isolated me at home, afraid of infecting anyone else. I guess I probably feel a bit like one of those bare branches, stripped back and clinging on through the winter weather.

So encouraging to see the glinting of precious stones within the twists and turns of the branches. There is beauty in barrenness; precious treasure in the most unlikely of places.

I hope that today as I work on some writing, I can embed precious treasure within the words and paragraphs. I hope that as I speak and interact through electronic media, I can encourage others who maybe feel set aside, ‘unclean’ and leprous. 

Precious treasure is found in the most unlikely of places.

Roller skating

I remember learning to roller skate. I had German measles, and felt fine, but my mother kept me home. So I went out into the back yard and practiced skating on the narrow path.

Soon the measles went and I could go into the front yard, going from one grass verge to the other of the wider path, until I eventually got up the courage to head out round the block. It was exhilarating and so freeing to glide along on those wheels!

I’ve been thinking a lot about the journey of faith lately. I think we’re all learners, like I was on the roller skates, when we take those first moves of faith towards God. We’re not sure how much we can trust him. We’re not sure exactly who he is. We’re not sure he’s able to keep us from falling. So we play it safe. We don’t want to go overboard and come a cropper.

Gradually, though, if we persevere in reading the Bible and in speaking to him in prayer, in hanging out with others who know him, we get to know him. We learn more about him. We read about him and then, importantly, we internalise that, so that our faith moves from our heads to our hearts.

And when it hits our hearts, look out! That’s when we start skating round the block. And maybe even a bit further.

Whatever

Be still and know

Does it take being laid aside with a nasty virus for me to obey these wise words from God?

Perhaps it does. I’m no different from anyone else, dashing from one ‘chore’ or delight to another, grabbing a few quiet moments at the beginning or end of the day or while I walk the dog. Seeing God’s creative hand at work in the sweep of a beautiful sky or the antics of animals around me, in the frost or the sunshine or the rainbow and giving him my grateful thanks – but rarely lingering.

Rarely being still.

Stillness isn’t just a matter of sitting without moving. It’s that deeper stillness, that inner quiet and peace. The psalmist writes (Psalm 131) that ‘I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content’. 

I don’t like the commonly tossed-off line – ‘whatever’ – but perhaps it is appropriate when sitting quiet and knowing God. Knowing his love, his goodness, his faithful care for his creation. 

As I am still and know that He is God, I can say with confidence, ‘whatever’ God. ‘Whatever’ you think right.

Pink Eye

There is a nasty cold virus circulating at the moment which carries the added feature of pink eye – or conjunctivitis. I felt an incipient cold brewing for a few days before the dreaded pink eye manifested itself in all its swollen, red, oozing way. Now I’m lying low, unwilling to either frighten someone off by my monstrous appearance or, more to the point, pass the wretched stuff on to someone else!

Inattention to washing the eye out regularly results in vision which is blurred by the sticky substance welling up within the eye. But extreme care has to be taken, I was advised, because pink eye is incredibly contagious – so separate towels, renewed pillowcases each morning, even different hands for handling the clean cotton balls and the used ones.

Jesus taught, ‘Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eyes are healthy, your whole body also is full of light. But when they are unhealthy, your body also is full of darkness. See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness.’ (Luke 11:34-35)

It’s easy for us to look at the world with a distorted lens. Our ‘eye’ becomes blurred by predominant cultural norms and social values. We need to calibrate ourselves daily by immersing ourselves in God’s Word, and sitting with him in prayer and silence, listening and taking note. There are so many distortions prevalent today, and not all are obvious. Some sound pretty good, maybe even pretty godly. It’s easy to be misled by a blurred lens.

I’m sure it happens to me more often than I know. Note to self: if Jesus needed to linger with his Father through the nights, what makes me think I can just breezily catch his drift from a few minutes speed reading through a Bible passage and a few arrow prayers?

While I’m laying low until the pink eye clears, I hope to immerse myself longer in God. With his help, I might just manage it.

God's Eye View

Put it in perspective, my dad used to advise. Wise words which are easy to forget when feeling overwhelmed with a problem.

This morning my Bible study group was looking at Psalm 2. It’s a great psalm, pointing forward to Jesus but also for the people of the time in which it was written, and for the people of today.

In it the writer talks of all the nations turning their backs on God and feeling confident in their own abilities.  ‘Let’s free ourselves from slavery to God.’

And what’s God’s reported reaction? He laughs. He scoffs at them. Because at the end of the day, He’s the one with the power.

So when something in government or politics looks terrible to me, I’m going to remind myself that God is bigger than whatever it is. When it looks like Christian faith, the backbone of the western world, is being rejected and sidelined, I’m going to think of this psalm. And remember that from God’s perspective, this is sad but nothing unexpected, and nothing very new.

People have always rebelled against God. But he is still on his throne. He is still in charge.

Which is such a relief, because he is a good God. His default emotion is love. His default reaction is one of love. He is the one waiting for us to come back to him, longing for our companionship and love. He doesn’t deserve our unfaithfulness and rejection. We don’t deserve his faithful love.

But that’s grace for you. And grace is the most Godly perspective.