A Wee Bird

 

A wee bird popped onto the window ledge, inches from where I sat on the prayer seat. She gripped a white something in her beak – a grub? A bit of fluff for a nest under construction? She didn’t rest long enough for me to see. But I was left with the impression of her colouring, and when I looked in the bird book, it seems she was a sparrow. Just a sparrow.

My dad used to refer derogatively to sparrows. They were the main birds which populated our garden. He didn’t value them like God does, and it’s Dad’s words that pop into my mind when I identify the wee bird.

Jesus spoke much differently about the sparrow. ‘God doesn’t abandon or forget even the small sparrow he has made. How then could he forget or abandon you?’ Luke 12:6-7 and again in Matthew 10:29-31, he says, ‘Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.’

It's easy to feel insignificant, like just one of the crowd. Like just another sparrow. But that sparrow this morning was bringing a smile to our Father’s face as she went about the business for which she was created. Building a nest perhaps. Feeding herself, or her young. Eating and drinking and frolicking on the breezes. And she was bringing a lesson to me.

May we all know our intrinsic value today, whatever it is we are doing with our time. We just need to be all that we are meant to be. Lovers of God, with our eyes open and expectant that he has blessings beyond what we can even imagine. May we receive the truth that we are worth many sparrows in our heavenly Father’s eyes. Grace and peace.

 

 

Walking each other Home

 

Had the sun shone today as it did yesterday, we would have missed the tranquillity and peace of the ‘good room’ on a cold, wet day. Instead of an afternoon of gardening, we have joined Indy in purring contentedly by a warm fire. Hopefully one of the last before the scorching summer sun comes out of hibernation.

I came back from the Dundee area yesterday clutching the first of the season’s rhubarb. Ours has barely sprouted, but just an hour south it is ready to pick.

Nature, nurture and experiences have brought each of us to different points of spiritual maturity. Today I’m thinking a lot about those who were deprived of a Christian upbringing. Those who never saw the love of God modelled to them by family or friends, and I’m praying that by action and word, those of us who know the blessing of faith and relationship with Jesus will reach out in love, humility and prayer to awaken hope in every despairing heart.

May the Lord guide us as we walk each other home.

Scanning

 

I’ve been scanning photos of Mom for a Power-point to have running at her 100^th birthday party in August. I don’t have access to many pictures, since she still has them in her apartment in Torrance, but I have quite a few.

What I’ve noticed is that through the years, despite the changing hair colour and the wrinkles, Mom is recognisable by the same warm, gentle smile, and her bright blue eyes.

People look at the outer appearance, God said to Samuel, but ‘I look at the heart’. I see Mom’s heart of generosity and love in that wonderful smile and in those shining eyes. The eyes don’t see much any more, but they still shine with love and light up with recognition of a much-loved voice.

May my eyes focus on the revelations of the heart rather than the physical appearance of everyone I meet. May I never dismiss or judge another person by their looks or even by their actions. God knows their heart. May my eyes be more focused on him, than on anyone else.

Stone of Scone

 

We’re just closing, the guide apologised. Go ahead and have a quick look.

We’d spent hours in the newly-opened Perth Museum, seeing the Stone of Destiny presentation and wandering round the many displays of historic finds in the area. Aware that the guides had their coats on, ready to leave, we sprinted up the aisle of St John’s Kirk, the oldest building in Perth. Constructed in about 1448, it is deserving of a longer look than we could give it.

I was amazed to see QR codes sprinkled round the listed building in various places, but especially this one on the communion table at the front. The oldest building in Perth fully embracing some of the newest technology. Very impressive that they are using the technology, not just to impart information about structures or windows or furnishings, but to go to the heart of the gospel and explain the reason for the building. ‘Why do we need forgiveness?’ What a great question.

May the Lord awaken curiosity in those who wander through this ancient building, leading them to enter through the portal of the QR code and be drawn into faith in Jesus.

Soaking Together

 

Daily deluges have kept the soil in the garden heavy, wet and cloying. The plants might be longing for the heat of a spring sun, but planted in the rich soil of the garden, they are not thirsty.

But in the individual plastic seed trays, the bedding plants I bought from the shop languish. There the earth is dry as dust, despite the tray sitting out under the same grey skies and receiving the same dose of rain.

Worshiping at church, voices joining in love and praise of our Saviour, waters my spirit and restores my soul. It is like resting in a rich garden. As our hearts converge and our minds agree in worship, we are like the plants in the soil, whose roots go deep.

I know I can be a believer whether or not I go to church, but if I stayed home, I think I might grow like those bedding plants, separated and hemmed in by plastic sides and bases, limited and isolated from being able to stretch my faith deeper, refreshing myself in the shared aquifer of love for God.

May the rain of heaven’s love fall gently on us all today, restoring us and enabling us each to blossom with the gifts God has given us.

Manna from Heaven

 

The cock pheasant and his harem visit daily. I noticed one of the hens balancing on the branch next to the peanut feeder. I’m not sure if she had eaten any of the nuts, but she was pretty big to be balanced on such a thin branch for so long.

Then he strutted into view and hopped up onto the pile of grass cuttings from last season. They’ve obviously found plenty of new life in that pile as a few of them have been feasting there the last few days – since the sun reappeared in our overly-grey skies.

The gorgeous male pheasant cast an ‘eagle-eye’ round the surrounding field. Yesterday I watched as he chased off a rival interloper. This morning peace reigned and no challenges appeared.

The hen feasted on peanuts, a rich treat perhaps. But perhaps just as rich, or even tastier, was what the cock found amongst the old grass cuttings.

May I be aware of all the sources of spiritual food which come my way this day, whether from the precious Scriptures or from the daily routines of my life. Through it all, God is speaking life to me.

Could you not sit with me?

 

The warmth of the conservatory drew me in for my morning quiet routine. As I focused on the devotional, I gradually become aware of the gentle purring of the cat, stretched in the sun on the chair opposite me. Indy isn’t a cat who craves petting and cuddles, but she enjoys company, as her contented purrs demonstrated.

Companionship needn’t be noisy chatter. There’s an interactive contentment when sitting with others you love, or respect and appreciate, which needs no verbal exchange. All it needs is time.

I’m aware that lately, I’ve curtailed that sort of loving lingering with the Lord. There seems to be so much to do all the time, and for some reason it takes me longer to do it all than it used to. But when Don remarked the other day how much he enjoyed my company, even when we aren’t speaking, I recognised how much I’m missing time spent just sitting with the Lord, too. Prayer is an attitude of the heart as well as an outpouring of the lips.

This morning, as the world convulses in violence and pain, I am thinking of Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, asking his friends to sit with him for an hour. To stay awake, and just keep him company.

I don’t know how to pray for this tortured world, but I can sit with the Lord of all as he prays.

So this morning, I surrender again to Jesus, knowing that I need his help to make some adjustments to my schedule, so that I have the right alignment of my priorities.

I don’t want to continue as Martha. I’d rather be Mary.