A Good Walk

Walking is good for the heart. It’s good for the mind. It’s good for building strength. And it’s good for the soul.

So it’s a very fitting way to start the day with God, loving him with all my heart, mind, strength and soul. I don’t know why it is such an effort to fit it in. Or maybe I do.

I am just back from a brisk walk which, since dear Dusty’s demise, I have to put on my To Do list if there’s any chance of me actually doing it. Pathetic.

As I headed for home, aware of my divine companion, the phrase which has come to have a lot of meaning for me of late came to mind again. Life is all about walking each other home. 

Today is the first day of school in our part of the world, and there are messages on Facebook revealing some broken-hearted mums, who have grown accustomed to that little hand clutched in theirs, having to drop the grip at the school gate and use that same hand to wave the wee kid off for her first day. Walking someone home requires some separations. Some tears. Reading the posts brought tears of remembrance to my eyes.

My mother’s nickname for me growing up was her ‘little shadow’. Being the younger of the two sisters, I was the last to be waved off on the first day of kindergarten. We have laughed over the last forty years of how long that shadow has grown, since I moved to Scotland. Laughter tinged with sorrow.

Now that she is 91, I am now very conscious that I am walking her home. Role reversal, and yet not, because I am aware that many of my reactions and thoughts were instilled in me by her fine example over so many years. We are very much walking each other home.

Mary must have been nearly paralysed with the enormity of her job description: to walk the Son of God home. From cradle to death. Who is up to such a thing?

She didn’t do it without help. None of us do it without help. We don't have to be raising the Son of God to feel inadequate for the task. But God is always there, a very present help in time of trouble, as Scripture says. When we pause perplexed at a fork in the road, he is there with us, encouraging, guiding, strengthening us for the next leg of the journey.

Mom and I are definitely walking each other home on a road less travelled, and yet, a road familiar to all of us. A road rutted with heartaches and disappointments, a road which seems to shrink to a path before disappearing altogether sometimes, leaving us feeling lost and forlorn. 

But Jesus is there. His promise is that he is always with us and will never forsake us. Even when we navigate the valleys of the shadow of death, he’s there, chilling the fizz ready to celebrate us when we come out the other side. 

Life is a journey, it is often said. And it is a journey best travelled on foot, at a pace which allows for meditative thoughts and openness to God’s still, small voice.

Enjoy your walk today.

Diamonds are Forever

Out of the mouths of babes...

Yesterday in church, the children were asked to name some of the beautiful things God has created. One voice piped up, ‘Diamonds.’

That drew a laugh (as did, in response to the question of what is necessary for life, the answer ‘broccoli’).

I keep thinking about the diamonds. Diamonds are created from something dirty and ugly, when it is put under enormous pressure. I am just such a thing. Something smudged by sin and misshapen by rebellion. When the pressures of life bear down on me now, though, having given my life to Jesus and trusting him to cleanse and purify me, I can expect that those pressures are creating a diamond which will last forever. 

And so, as James wrote, ‘Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colours. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.’ ... ‘Anyone who meets a testing challenge head-on and manages to stick it out is mighty fortunate. For such persons loyally in love with God, the reward is life and more life.’ (The Message)

Diamonds are forever. And that's what we are becoming, through all the trials and tribulations. Thanks to God's grace and mercy.

To Do or not To Do

My eyes pinged open this morning, earlier than they should have for a Saturday. Things on my mind. Things that need doing. Am I just moving slower these days, or is the To Do List getting longer?

After breakfast I wrote another To Do list which, though incomplete, still has 25 things on it. Leapt up and cleaned out the fridge, ditching the out-of-date jams and so on. Then I headed for the prayer alcove.

I can almost imagine God’s glee as he waited for me to discover what the reading was for this morning in the plan I follow. The irony of it all. The clarity of the message to Me. It was the story of the two sisters, Mary and Martha. Martha probably had 25 things on her To Do list too, and maybe Mary did as well, but Mary had abandoned her list and plunked down at Jesus’ feet, where she was hanging on to his every word. Martha, meanwhile, was seething with resentment that she was left to get on with all the work while her sister lounged with the honoured guest.

No problem seeing who I was being this morning, so I spent a few minutes there, also sitting at Jesus’ feet, soaking in his presence, telling him I love him. 

Sometimes, especially during hard times when we are under pressure and anxious, it is very tempting to focus totally on ‘doing’. It distracts us from that which worries us. It makes us feel like we can do something right, that we can make a positive difference in our little corner.

‘Being’ is so much healthier, though. God calls us to be in relationship with him. He longs for us to sit with him, without agenda, just in companionship and love. He invites us to sit in silence and listen. He has the words of eternal life, and they are light and life to the heavy heart.

It’s nearly bedtime now and only three things have come off the list. But meantime I enjoyed a BBQ with family. I am often a victim of the tyranny of the to-do list. There is something that feels virtuous in ticking off the tasks. But more virtuous, and of infinite more value, is the time I spend nurturing relationship – first with God through Jesus, then with others. Somehow, in God’s economy, that nurtures my own soul.

I’ll keep working through the To Do List, mainly so I don’t forget to do some of the things which have been awaiting attention. But I will resist letting it rule my life. I will do it in my own time, choosing to use it as an aide memoire and not allowing it to drive my life.

The God of hope

Soggy summer day again, with the rain falling in waves from the sky and bowing down the heads of the saturated roses. No cold beer today, just hot coffee.

No sitting in the garden either. But I continue to draw encouragement from Jesus, knowing that he knows. He has walked this path before, though his was considerably steeper and more rugged. And I am thinking of another favourite verse, from Romans 15: ‘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.’

Hope is one of the distinguishing marks of a Christian life. It takes us through the crises and the traumas and the tough decisions, as we look through the heavy rain and see the rainbow, even if it is still in our imagination. It is coming. Breakthrough is on the way.

As I wrote a few weeks ago, in every teardrop through which  we walk in life, there lies a rainbow. Jesus is our bright hope, the hope of glory (his glory) shining through the lives of those who love him. His light shining on our rain creates that spectrum of colour arching through the skies.

So when I feel at my weakest, his strength is visible. When I am at my wits’ end, his wisdom guides me. That is what my faith is all about, and I know it to be true because I have relied on God during many challenging times in my life, and he has never failed me. 

Sometimes I have had to walk that way of the cross, like I feel I am walking now with my dear old mom, but I know that Jesus walked this way before me, and he walks with me, and in the end he will be glorified.

In that hope and in that trust lies that peace which passes all understanding.

Not My Will

I’m just back from Bible study, where we sat in the sun and shared joys and concerns and prayed for one another.

I came home, made myself a peanut butter sandwich and looked in the fridge for what I knew was there, waiting for this day. A cold bottle (small) of Heineken beer. 

And I sat out in the sunshine again, reading the September issue of Woman Alive magazine (@WomanAliveUK), remembering. Remembering a summer 45 years ago (what?!!!) when my sister and I hitch-hiked around Europe. We queued up outside the Heineken brewery in Amsterdam because we knew they gave free samples of the beer but more importantly, cheese and crackers, at the end of every tour. On a tight budget, we and all the other backpackers were lined up ready to get our free meal. Only a certain number were allowed in, though, and as Judy and I approached the front of the queue, a general scrum ensued. Judy, being a head taller and considerably stronger than me, grabbed my arm and I found myself flying inside with her. (sorry to any I may have queue-jumped to victory).

I’ve had a soft spot for Heineken ever since. Now this was probably my annual bottle of Heineken because I really only ever drink beer if it is very warm. And I live in Scotland. Enough said.

That all just sets the scene because what I really want to write about is that I suddenly realized that while I thought I was in my own garden, and was, physically, spiritually I am in the Garden of Gethsemane. 

I am in a situation that I don’t want to be in. I have to go through something I don’t want to navigate. I have to make decisions I don’t want to make. I suddenly realized that Jesus was in exactly the same place. He was on his knees sweating blood (something I’ve not yet done), begging that things change so he wouldn’t have to go through what he saw coming. But after the prayer, after the anguished begging that his Father would let this cup pass him by, he acquiesced. ‘Not my will but yours be done.’ 

What he had to go through had all the hallmarks of failure. Pain. Humiliation. Loss of freedom. Agony. Death. My situation doesn’t come close to that, praise God. But it still is something I would rather avoid. I just want God to take this cup from me so I can get on with my life. 

Today in the garden of Barehillock, cold Heineken in my hand, I recognised that the Father is waiting for me to pray Jesus’ prayer. Not my will, but yours be done. He can then bring glory out of this difficult situation. 

And that gives me hope. That raises the expectation, that I will see God be glorified in this as I agree with him in prayer and walk forward in faith, courageously, with my hand firmly in his.

Psalm 63, my favourite psalm, says ‘I cling to you; your strong right hand holds me securely.’ 

Praise God. 'Not my will, but yours be done.' Deep breath.