The original ecologist

 A red kite circles overhead, silhouetted against a grey, louring sky. A fat cock pheasant struts past the window, plucking fallen grain from the bird feeders overhead. A diminutive blue tit clings to the bobbing netting, pecking at a fat ball while buffeted by the strengthening wind.

Soon, maybe already, they will be building nests, preparing for the next generation. They will gather dead twigs and yellowing moss, using that which is now dead to build a cradle for new life.

Nothing is wasted in the economy of God.

Lord, take what is now dead in me and use it. Help me to work with you to build a nest, a home for new life not yet known to me. As one season segues seamlessly into another, so may it be in me today.

Nothing is wasted in the economy of God. The original ecologist.

Battle Hymn

This may be a different post from my usual blogs. I am sitting here in tears having just read Heather Cox Richardson’s post about the significance of February 1 in American history. On this day in 1860, Julia Ward Howe was inspired to write the words to the Battle Hymn of the Republic, having spent the day visiting the Union forces guarding Washington DC from Confederate troops who were surrounding and threatening the city at the start of the Civil War.

One verse reads:

“In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,

With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me.

As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,

While God is marching on.”

On February 1, 1865, President Abraham Lincoln signed the Joint Resolution of Congress passing the Thirteenth Amendment. The amendment stated that "[n]either slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction." It gave Congress power to enforce that amendment. Within a decade, though, segregation was evident. Another century of struggle ensued, struggle for justice and equality. The civil rights movement in the sixties achieved some results, and finally in 1976, in an effort to recognise the achievements of Blacks historically, President Ford designated February 1 the first day of Black History Month.

In 2025, President Trump has revoked a 60-year-old executive order that protected equal opportunity in employment. He has called for an end to all diversity, equity and inclusion programs.

Neither the Pentagon nor the State Department will recognise Black History month, which starts today.

Groundhog Day (which, weirdly, is tomorrow).

What would Jesus do? What does he call us to do?

‘As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, while God is marching on.’ As Jesus followers, we are called to die to self and live for Jesus. In peace and with courage. We are called to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God. We of every colour and gender.

I am heartbroken to see the direction of travel over the last two weeks.

Family

 

Laura, who I met for ten minutes after a church service in early November, has been visiting Mom faithfully. Saturday she went in and took her downstairs where young people from St Peter’s by the Sea were giving a concert. Mom loved it.

That is what family do. I am so grateful to be part of the family of Jesus Christ. I pray that I would not miss any opportunities to be the hands and feet, mouth and arms of Jesus today.

Sardines

 

‘Gramma, come play hide and seek!’ ‘How about a variation?’ I ask. ‘Sardines.’

There then ensued joyful mayhem. As I weaselled my way into the attic cupboard beside Ella, we stood side by side in the darkness, waiting to be found by Joel or Jamie. In her impatience to be discovered, Ella tapped lightly on the door, and Joel discovered us and squashed in, too.

More waiting. Joel couldn’t help himself. He had to whisper: Jamie found us, to much squealing and laughter.

Sometimes we can be in tight places, in dark corners or situations, harbouring mean thoughts or judgments: through our own poor choices. That’s called sin. But even in those dark places of our choice, our deepest longing is to be found, to be brought out into the light, to be changed. We might be whispering for help; we might be knocking on God’s door; we might be shouting to be discovered.

God hears. And oh, the laughter and joy when we are brought into the Light!

Lord, open the door on my pinched heart today. Flood your light into the dark corners of my thinking. Fill that empty space in me with your Holy Spirit, that I might reflect you wherever I go this day.

Build on the Rock; take down the scaffolding

 

Roof repairs were completed weeks ago, yet the scaffolding remained up round a converted church in Glasgow. This Red Alert Storm Eowyn whipping winds of 100 mph has taken the scaffolding down in a crash; fortunately, nobody was injured. A weather vane is down; tiles are flying. A window has been smashed.

It is easy to start a repair project. Something around or inside our homes; something deep within our soul. Something precious in our spirits which we have taken to God, and then, after initial confessions, healings, mercies, we’ve kind of neglected. Kind of forgotten about. The Lord never leaves us half-forgiven, half-healed. May I press in to know the fullness of his life and love in every aspect of my life.

I am reminded how important it is to see something through to the end. Otherwise, when the storms blow, our careful efforts may not only collapse, but may cause new damage.

I am thinking today of the horror knife attack last summer in which three beautiful wee girls were killed, and many others were injured in body, mind and spirit. The perpetrator was sentenced yesterday.

I am thinking of the survivors, and all those trying to help them deal with the dreadful consequences. May those involved in helping in this and other such brutal events be there for the long run. May there be no quick fixes which leave behind flimsy scaffoldings of coping mechanisms for survivors to cling on to, scaffoldings which may fly apart when the storms of life blow, perhaps creating new victims.

Lord, you are the rock on which we build our lives. We are weak and helpless without you. Have mercy on us all. Bring your healing power and abiding love.

A Plan Coming Together!

 

My kids used to love watching the A-Team on a Saturday evening. The leader of the group of ex-soldiers, kind of a troupe of Robin Hoods, used to devise elaborate plans for defeating the bad guys. Every person in the group had a job to do, and when the plan played out and the baddies were defeated, (as they always were), the leader invariably said, with great satisfaction and a broad smile (smiled despite his teeth clenching a fat cigar): ‘I love it when a plan comes together.’

Cue the music. Many of us are humming it now…

There is a young mum looking for a Bible study where she can take her pre-schoolers with her. Another young mum who is already going to a Bible study, though her involvement is limited because of her pre-schooler’s needs. Within that Bible study, there is an on-going prayer that the group would be added to and led by God. Enter the lynch-pin, another young woman with a calling to help families grow spiritually, delighted to be able to offer some distractions for the children while the mums engage in worship, prayer and study.

I sense God sitting back, probably without a stogie clenched in his teeth, declaring, ‘I love it when a plan comes together.’

Cue the music. Something celebratory, joyful, bursting with gratitude and love. Many of us will be humming something now.

Praise God!

 

Creative God

 

The birdfeeder is pretty depleted, but still they come, dancing around it, sharing space, nibbling and then going. I’m trying hard to identify them. Chaffinch. Yes, I’m pretty convinced I can identify the chaffinch. Sparrow? Maybe. Blackbird – yup.

None are very eye-catching, and a friend said last week that as the weather warmed up again, the goldfinches and siskins, birds strikingly beautiful, weren’t coming anymore. They must be better able to forage than these rather unremarkable and numerous ones out there now.

And yet Jesus created them all. Those of striking beauty and those of ho-hum colouring. He provides for each one, each one as it desires, as it requires.

May I walk into this week confident that whether I am a goldfinch or a sparrow, Jesus loves and provides for me today.

Whether the global forecast is one of freezing temps or one of luxuriant warmth, he still provides.

Profoundly grateful.