Potica

That’s the potica baked and ready for the freezer, to have on Christmas morning. A Yugoslavian sweet bread, the hardest thing about making it is getting it to rise in my cold house. So this afternoon I ran the heat more than usual and am delighted that it has risen!

It’s hard to ‘rise’ if the atmosphere isn’t just right. I can’t rush into my prayer corner with the clock ticking, as I did today, and expect to have a deep and meaningful with God. It just can’t happen.

I’m trying to get as much prepared now so that when family comes, we can enjoy each other without being too busy. First loved one comes tomorrow night. I’ll be ready.

I have been doing an advent study this year, too, one I’ve done before which looks at some pretty serious subjects like death and judgment and Jesus’ second coming. I hope to feel ‘prepped’ for welcoming Jesus this Christmas in a deep and meaningful way.

Getting the balance right can be tricky.

Give me Oil

Give me oil in my tank, keep us heated. Huddled in my prayer window, I heard the tanker inching up the driveway.

Now both tanks are filled. I’ll be back in the prayer window soon, at least by tomorrow, and it won’t cost me a dime. The more often I hook up to the Lord, the hotter burns the fire of faith and hope within me.

The king of the universe gives his time freely, to all who call on his name.

I’m waiting for the tanker driver to ring the bell and need a signature on the invoice.  Nothing free about that fuel.

Risks!

Now the gritter comes!

Mary and I had to abort our walk this morning as the white ice on the road underfoot threatened to bring us down. We’re cautious about risking our bones.

The gritter has just roared up the road, spreading salt and grit and preventing, hopefully, any unexpected slips. But we’ve now moved on into our days. Opportunity gone.

Been thinking about living on the edge for Jesus. Taking risks. I don’t want to sink into a comfy chair and be content while there are still things I can do to help others. I don’t want to look back and think, opportunity gone.

My prayer today is to have my eyes open to see the risks Jesus is calling me to take, trusting that he is the grit that keeps me safe. And to have the courage and strength to step out.

Family

‘No I don’t like blackcurrant jam because it reminds me of being sick as a child, when Mum would give us hot blackcurrant to drink.’

‘I love blackcurrant jam because it reminds me of being a child. The flavour is so robust.’

Family. Yesterday it was the family of a group of lovely ladies who share life together, looking at the Bible, praying, worshiping. We are from different spots around the globe, different ages, different experiences in life, different points on the journey of faith, and what a richness that brings to our gatherings.

What we have in common is God. Our love for him, our curiosity about what he’s said and done, of what he’s saying and doing right now, our need for him.

We are all broken vessels, every one of us a cracked pot. In our biological families and in our church families, we see things differently but we are one in the blood we share. Jesus’ blood, who died for us. In our biological families, our parents’ and grandparents’ blood. We are linked, joined.

We may not always agree. We may not always be as genial and happy as we were yesterday, eating pumpkin and pecan pies and sharing what we felt especially thankful for. But we are one, one in Christ, linked, joined. The family of God.

For that I am so grateful.

A message of hope

What a wonderful story I just saw, where two ecologists got a company to dump 12,000 tons of orange peels into a barren stretch of formerly-rich Amazonian rainforest, then seem to have forgotten about it all for sixteen years and when they returned, they discovered a whole new ecosystem teeming with life had regenerated the land.

A message of hope: just what we need right now.

Makes me think of Jesus, ‘dumped’ into a barren world. Though he wasn’t forgotten about, the life that has been spawned from his life over the centuries is just miraculous.

The message of hope is clear: as we ‘dump’ Jesus prayerfully into the barrenness stretching through our own lives and through the nations, life happens. Life overcomes death. Life spawns life. God has the last word.

I am so grateful that Jesus was ‘dumped’ into my barren life, and over the years his richness has helped shoots of spiritual fruit to germinate and grow within me. Nothing to do with me; I’m just the barren ground and his body, his sacrifice, his Spirit are working away.

Jesus is the miracle. Praise him.

Rainbows

A vibrant rainbow this morning caused my neighbour to wonder which arch-end rested on that legendary pot of gold. The postman asked if we’d found the pot of gold for, as he drove towards the house, the rainbow seemed to rest on our property.

I love rainbows. During a particularly difficult time, I felt God whispered to me, ‘In every teardrop is a rainbow’. Sunshine and showers are the ingredients for a glorious rainbow.

Rainbows are a sign of God’s promise of mercy and love to a flooded world. It’s so human for us to add a pot of gold to something which is intrinsically worth so much more. We are more tempted by tangible treasure than we are by divine love.

Today may my focus be on God’s gift to us in Jesus, a treasure beyond all others, and may that focus bring peace, contentment and hope.

Light, Stillness, Simplicity and Hope

The light shines in the darkness. The darkness has not overcome it. At this darkest time of year, I light a candle.

Be still and know that I am God. Be still and know. At this busiest time of year, I choose to take time, to be still, and to know.

The stripped-down simplicity of the first Christmas. Bare. At this glitziest time of year, I focus on the natural simplicity of this supernatural event.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. At this time of worldly crisis and despair, I receive the joy and peace of Jesus, trusting in him and overflowing with hope which is based on the faithfulness of our loving Lord.