Season of Hibernation

One or two of the broom bushes on the drive have been pruned so hard it’s difficult to know whether or not they are even alive. They are nothing but twisted skeletons of bare branches looping and lacing round each other. 

Another few weeks, and it may be a different story. Hopefully there will be green shoots poking through the hard brown wood, promising new life.

We all have seasons in life when we need to pull in, like a tortoise pulls in its appendages, and hibernate. Perhaps we’ve been ill, or through a difficult time relationship-wise, or struggling with depression. 

Two images of living things taking a break from life. The broom bushes, and the tortoise. When conditions improve – when the air warms up and the sun pays us more than a passing glance – life should begin to stir again. 

Hibernation is a natural state, but it does render one more than usually vulnerable. My cousin’s tortoise failed to respond as winter gave way to spring one year, and they discovered it had been consumed totally – by rats, or a dog, or some other kind of predator. 

So make sure if you are hibernating, that you are in a safe place, protected and yet in a position to respond when conditions improve.

Best place I know to hibernate, is in the shadow of God’s wings.

Power Failure

Power failed this afternoon at our place. It was perfect. Long enough to get the candles out and appreciate seeing things in a different light. Long enough to sit down together and read by candlelight. Long enough to just sit, and relax.

But within about an hour the lights were up and running again. Back to the computer. Into the kitchen to cook dinner, put on the dishwasher. The heating came on at the right time so the house was warming up when the B&B guests arrived. They could shower in the electric shower. After dinner we could watch TV – first an episode of Cheers (still good after all those years), then a few minutes of the day’s news. 

It’s amazing how dependent we are on electricity. It’s good to be reminded of our dependency by losing it for a short spell.

It’s amazing how dependent we are on power from God. We never lose it, but we often live as if we have no access to it. We prefer our independence, little realizing how puny the results of our lives are when lived in our own power, and not in the power of God.

A different perspective. 

Revealing my deep need for power from above.

The Cross is Everywhere

Channel 4 television in the UK has an identifier which involves a camera focused on a series of lines – be they power cables, telephone wires, whatever – until suddenly they coalesce to form a recognisable ‘4’. From what initially looks like just a spaghetti junction of lines emerges something with a meaning.

I looked out the window this morning at the bare branches of a tree and saw a Cross. As my gaze panned round the view, crosses were evident everywhere. 

The news these days is bleak, but when we pause and prayerfully take a closer look, we can sometimes glimpse a cross amongst the wreckage of lives and property. A selfless act of courage. A kind gesture. A humble word.

My elderly mother lives alone thousands of miles away from me. I can’t do what I long to do – drop by with her shopping, take her to the movies, organise a weekend away. I can’t even pick up her daily newspaper which is thrown onto the grass about 4 am each day and put it on her front porch.

But someone on her street can. And has been. Two women, one whom my mother has never even met, try to make sure they put her paper up near the front door for easy access. 

These women are answers to my prayers that she would have people round her looking out for her. I have never met either one of them. Linda and Michelle. 

When I look at the potential for violence in the big city where Mom lives; when I think of the severe drought affecting that area and the obvious ramifications which that could mean for peaceful co-existence; when I am tempted to tread the anxious hallways of the mind which all open from the central point of ‘what if...?’; I remember the acts of kindness shown by these two neighbourly women who don’t really know my mother very well and who don’t expect any kind of reward for their thoughtfulness.

There are others in Mom’s life with whom she shares deep and loving relationships, and who also go extra miles to bring her a smile or an ice cream. When I look at Mom, I see crosses all around. Love. Service. Kindness. Gentleness. Patience. Protection. Advice. Friendship. Love. 

The cross of Jesus trumps every evil, real or potential.

God is in his heaven, and all is right with the world. I will not be anxious, but will trust him to do more than I can ask or imagine in the lives of those I pray for today.

Drink Deep

Those little gems I wrote about last week – the carnations with flower heads sprouting frequently up the slender stalks: they’re still going strong. 

I’ve just been reflecting on the short life of a lovely young woman, Stari, who passed away just before Christmas. Her strong faith in Jesus lives on in the blog she left behind and in the comfort her assurance gave to those who loved her. Looking at pictures of her through her life, I noticed how like her mother she had grown in looks; a picture of her being cradled in her mum’s arms shortly after birth startled me into thinking just how short life is.

I’m still struggling to come out from the effects of this nasty virus, trying to overcome the pounding headache which seems to be its legacy. I look in the mirror and feel that I’ve aged almost beyond my own recognition! It’s amazing how fast it goes.

Peter wrote, quoting from the Old Testament, that ‘all people are like grass and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord endures forever.’ 

Stari, a beautiful flower, fell before her time. Those of us who may live out a normal life span wither more slowly, less obviously perhaps, but we wither nevertheless. One day we will all fall, but how comforting and even exciting to know that as believers in Jesus we will join him and go on forever. 

Meanwhile, we want to accomplish all we are meant to do while we are blooming here on earth. I just noticed my little gems of carnations had sucked up most of the water in the vase, so I’ve filled it again with fresh, clear water. That should keep them perky and bright for awhile longer.

And while we are flowering here on earth, we need to ensure we suck up the nourishment provided by our heavenly Father through his word, which refreshes, restores, corrects and encourages us. That way, hopefully, the power and love of God will shine out through the weakness of a pounding headache – in the same way that the power and love of God shone out through the pain Stari suffered in her final illness.

I thank God for the encouragement and hope offered by this extraordinary young woman.

Heavy clouds

Heavy clouds have sunk onto the hills round about us, resting their heavy flanks on the brows of the hills and roiling their dampness into every dip and glen. There is no horizon outside today, just an expanse of grey stretching as far as I can see.

I have to confess that having heard today’s news on the radio a few times, I feel as if heavy clouds have sunk onto my brain, soaking every synapse in the damp pervasiveness of evil in our time. The body of a three year old child who has been missing for a few days has been found, and his mother is being questioned. Reports from Afghanistan indicate that violence against women there is on the rise as western forces withdraw and gender repression is powerful and resurgent. The world’s newest nation, South Sudan, is on the verge of collapse and genocide is a real possibility. I read details of a 46 year old marriage which ended in divorce last year as the husband started a relationship with the wife’s friend. And so on.

Meeting the heavy clouds is the damp stench of the swamp we seem to be mired in.

I’m listening to an inspiring Hillsong composition called God is Able, as I write this. He will never fail. He is Almighty God. I am reminding myself of that. 

The heavy clouds of evil and oppression may blank out any vision of the sun. If I were trying to explain what the sun is today to an alien who just emerged from underground, he would find it incomprehensible. 

But that doesn’t make it any the less real. I know that the sun is there, on the other side of these damp grey clouds, and that it will shine again. 

I know that God is always good, that the Son is there, on my side and yours, and that he has overcome evil at the cross. ‘My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.’ One day he will sweep in and mop up the final flings of the enemy and then...peace will reign forever. God is for us; he has open arms; he will never fail us. Christ alone. My cornerstone.

Remember that today when you hear the news, when you see the injustice and oppression, when your heart aches with anguish for those who suffer. God’s heart aches too, and not only has he given his answer to it all in Jesus, he also is expecting us to do what we can, in our own wee corner, to make a difference today.

Even though it seems like explaining what the sun is to an underground alien who can’t see it, offer someone who is at the point of despair today the certain hope that Jesus is for us, and he has overcome evil.

And raise your voice in protest; your heart in prayer; your eyes to the heavens, expectantly.