Preserves

Preserves. I’m not sure if that is a word used in the UK for jams, but ‘back home’ we sometimes call jams, preserves. It’s a nice name, redolent of having something of value that you want to save for later pleasure.

I couldn’t resist the voluptuous brambles growing at the end of the road yesterday, and within 15 minutes had 3 pounds of plump berries. I came home and immediately set to making them into jam. Preserving their taste. In order to do this, according to the recipe I found on Google, I had to cook the berries in a little water and lemon juice for an hour to break them down and make them into a soft mush. Then I added the sugar and boiled hard until the jam was ready for bottling.

There is something immensely satisfying in seeing a cupboard full of preserves. Independent of electrical power (like all those berries in the freezer). They are there for years, until they are needed.

I love the joy of sharing the bounty with others, too. Most people are delighted to receive a jar of homemade jam, free of additives.

Jesus looks at us and, (I know this is a flight of fancy), he sees plump berries. (I make no comment on the plump aspect…) All we need is him, the sugar, and the steady heat of the Holy Spirit to preserve us. Then he can give us to the world, to sweeten the sourness, to encourage and cheer, to draw others into the fold.

May you be a sweet dollop of preserves to others today!

Brambling

Just back from picking brambles. The sun is out; the sky is blue; my heart was singing to the Lord (and so was my mouth sometimes!)

As I filled my fourth punnet, I thought of the lavishness of this year’s bramble and cherry harvests. Delicious fruits, growing without any husbandry. They grow on the verges of the fields, fields which the farmer lavishes with care and chemicals, fields which yielded poor crops this year because of unusual weather conditions.

Everyone watches the fields for the harvests and bemoans the poor result. Relatively nobody is looking along the verges, which the Lord is blessing with abundance.

I thought of my own prayer life. I lavish most prayers on certain people and situations. I watch carefully for signs of growth. Meanwhile, what is the Lord doing along the neglected verges of my life? I am missing great things when I fail to see what the Lord is doing, and join in with him to bring in the harvest.

So my prayers  coming back changed as I asked him to show me the verges in my life, so that I can join in to bring in an abundant harvest, a harvest all down to the Lord of the harvest. I asked him to give us more workers in our community, to scour the verges for signs of growth and then to nurture and bring it into the Kingdom.

And if you’re out my way, bring some empty punnets. The verges are ripe unto a delicious harvest.

A heart that grows two sizes in a breath

Oh, the thoughts I have as I look out my prayer window! This morning I realised that the bushes I trimmed a few weeks back are now throwing up new shoots, and the whole body of the bush is growing up as well. The view has shrunk by about a quarter. It led me to think how easily I can let shoots of thought – many of them selfish, critical, or negative – to grow up and restrict the God-given perspective Jesus wants me to have. It’s easiest to trim out those shoots one by one as they appear, rather than wait until they strengthen into wooden branches of unhelpful thinking.

Having read books for years to my four kids and now some grandchildren, I thought of one favourite – How the Grinch Stole Christmas. While the self-centred Grinch punched the air rejoicing in his presumed success at stealing Christmas from the Whos in Whoville, he was interrupted by the sound of sweet singing where he expected to hear heartbroken wailing. He had assumed that Christmas came in gifts – all of which he had stolen, rather than understanding that it is a Gift, and that Gift is love. And ‘his heart grew two sizes that day’.

The errant branches were pruned away and the Grinch could see clearly. The vision was breath-taking, transformative and life-giving.

May I recognise the errant branches in my mind today and prune them off as soon as they tempt me to think selfishly, critically, or negatively. Scripture declares we have the mind of Christ – but only as we work with the Holy Spirit to develop it. I long for his perspective, not my own, for in him only do we have fullness of life and are we set free from thoughts which rob us of our peace, compassion and love.

The Wanderer

Sitting in my prayer window this morning, I suddenly realised there was a cow on her own in the harvested barley field. As yet unperturbed by separation from her calf and the other mums across the road, she grazed happily along the verge of the field. A few of her friends bellowed, but she ignored them.

As I got up to call the farmer, he arrived, on his own. I saw him park the tractor in a strategic place, but still. Somehow he had to entice or usher the stray out of the wrong field and through the open gate of the right field, without losing the rest of the herd. I quickly put on shoes and jacket so I could give him a hand, but by the time I was ready, the cow was back where she belonged.

Over the years, we have participated in many a round-up, doing our best to help farmers with their errant herds. We have discovered our own ineptness. It takes skill and experience to move a herd, or even a single cow.

Jesus told stories of lost sheep rather than roaming cows, but the symbolism is the same. It is comforting to know that he is that skilled, experienced, loving ‘farmer’ who can seek out the one who has wandered off, without losing any of the rest of the herd.

I am the good shepherd, he declared. Today I’m praying for those I know who have strayed. He doesn’t need my help to restore them, but he graciously responds to our prayers.

Falling Cherries

No way could I have ever picked all the cherries this year, even with the help of friends and family. And now the inevitable is happening. The ground is littered with overripe cherries, staining the driveway and pressing into soles.

That which was delicious in its time, on those warm summer days, is beginning to rot and stain.

The fields are ripe and ready for the picking, Jesus told his disciples. You can’t do it all: pray for helpers.

Our neighbours and friends don’t all know Jesus. They are missing out on so much, but we can’t reach them all. Partly because there isn’t time, and partly because they may need someone else to listen to. People don’t always respond to friends and family, though they are always watching to see if we walk the walk.

Press into the Lord of the harvest and pray for helpers. Pray for new ways to do church. Pray for new ways to present the ancient truth of the gospel.

Lines of communication

Forty years ago, a letter took three days to wing its way from California to north-eastern Scotland. Postage wasn’t very expensive. Transatlantic phone calls had to go through an overseas operator, who rang back when she had a clear line and it was ringing. It cost a lot. £1/minute. Those were the two options for maintaining contact with my family, so my parents wrote to me, and I wrote to them, every Sunday, and we received the up-to-the-minute news the following Wednesday.

Today, a letter takes a week or more and may never even arrive. It costs a lot. I paid over £10 to send a small packet to my mother and it never arrived. E-mail is free and instant. Skype is free to a computer, pennies to a phone. I can skype Mom most days. The biggest obstacles are the time difference and her busy social life!

I haven’t even mentioned WhatsApp, SMS, Facebook, Instagram…

Getting in touch with God hasn’t changed, though. Call out to me, he invites us. Sit with me. Rest in me. Confess to me. Come away with me. Listen.

I love you, he says, and it echoes through my heart. It’s free, and it’s instant. Praise him.

Isn't it beautiful?

A month ago, our cherry trees were literally dripping with cherries, which for some reason the pigeons ignored. Freezer full now, some jam made, many cherries didn’t get picked. I just couldn’t reach.

Now I look out and the apple trees are drooping towards the ground, so heavy is the fruit on their branches. Big, healthy-looking apples, not yet ready, but when they are, there will be apple butter, crumbles, pies, sauce.

Even the plum tree, which has never done much, has a healthy crop beginning to ripen.

And yet, the raspberries were poor quality and scarce. The strawberries were small, though sweet. There aren’t many blueberries.

I’m no horticulturist, but it’s evident that weather conditions which bless some fruits, harm others.

So it is with people. A climate of corruption can encourage some to let their integrity flower and grow fruit to feed those whose hope is waning. Or it can tempt people to participate in corruption.

We are not to live like people who have no hope, the Bible claims. When the storms of negativity, of fake news and alternative truth buffet our world, we are to look up. He who started a good work in us will not leave it incomplete. Filled with his Spirit of hope, the joy of the Lord as our strength, we are the cherry and apple trees in my garden, feeding the hungry poor.

This is the day the Lord has made. Isn’t it beautiful?