I had been keeping an eye on the Open – the golf tournament that Tiger Woods won. The very first day, Tiger was paired up with Nick Faldo. For some reason or other, the radio commentator was very impressed that the two of them were smiling and chatting happily as they walked the course and potted their shots. It seems that some hatchet of other had been buried. One would imagine that if the two if them were not seen to be talking, the conclusions drawn would have been about continuing hostilities. It seems to me that the two of them could have been enjoying a companionable silence enjoying each others company without the need to talk!
Silence does not have to mean enmity. But how do we react when God seems to be silent. I know that present day theology seems to be sure that God is always talking and if we can’t hear Him, the problem lies with us, some hidden sin perhaps, or a gluey spiritual ear. I am not so sure that God is always talking!
Between the writing of the Old Testament and the New Testament there were 400 years when God was silent. There was a whole lot of books written during this time that did not make it into the Bible, but they are a collection called the Apocrypha, which appears in some versions. They don’t carry the same authority as the Bible. Silences happen.
A friend of mine was sharing with me earlier on last week that she has been going through a season of God’s silence. It is distressing her as she knows that she knows God’s voice and she can’t think why He would be so silent. Rather than feeling that she is receiving sparks of revelation, life is very much flat and her Christian walk has become a lonely path in the dark. She is becoming discouraged but holding on.
There is something Christian mystics call the 'Dark Night of the Soul'. I read about it in a book I found in a second hand bookshop, “The Celebration of Discipline” by Roger Foster (?). God seems to withdraw and stand at a distance. A person hasn’t done anything wrong so it isn’t linked to sin. The author made the point that it is an experience not to be avoided because there is a deeper blessing that comes with it. He also wrote that it was an experience not to be dissected and examined or reasoned about but simply lived through. Another friend described it like “a father who is trying to lead his child further on by walking ahead of it out of sight.” The child doesn’t understand what the father is doing, or enjoy the experience.
The author made the point that in our generation things like silence and solitude seem to scare us. When you think of communication today –everything happens in thirty second sound bites. We surround ourselves with noise and do not know how to live in silence. We don’t teach our children to sit still anymore!
I posted the topic on the FW message boards. Here are some the comments made:-
“Sometimes the greatest boost in our relationship with God comes in the form of a dry and barren land that seems to have no reason. It causes us to question our faith - a faith that may have become more formulaic than vibrant. We go through the motions without coming to the event with prepared hearts.”
“Sometimes when God seems to be silent, He may be dealing with us about an aspect of our lives that He wants us to trust Him with.”
A comment that really resonated with my spirit was this one:-
Sometimes when we are low or can't feel Father with us, it's time to go outside of ourselves and do service for someone who is in need. Just the act of doing compassionate service for another fellow child of God brings us closer to Him.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Monday, July 17, 2006
A restoring touch
I noticed it yesterday, but last night I had a proper look! Do you know that in the story of the Prodigal Son, not once does the father speak to his youngest son? He doesn’t say anything as his youngest son ups and leaves for the bright lights of the big city. He doesn’t say anything to his son when he turns up on the doorstep covered in rags and smelling like the pigs he has been living with. The father speaks to the servants to fetch things and to prepare for the feast, but to his son he says nothing at all! He doesn’t say, “Hello, son – it’s nice to have you back.” or “I forgive you and reinstate you as a son,” or “”Hmm.. it may take a while before I can ever trust you again, but let’s be patient.” He says nothing. I love words – spoken or written and in this story, for the younger son, there are none.
In one of the first year units at school we explore a whole series of lessons on symbolic actions. One phrase that we talk about is “Actions speak louder than words.” In the story of the Prodigal son there are plenty of actions. The embrace that the son receives when he comes home is awesome.
I wrote a story about Jesus’ encounter with the man who had leprosy. Rather than just stand at a distance and say the words, “Be healed”, Jesus touches the man. I thought so long and hard about that touch. I didn’t want it to be a light touch on the shoulder as he spoke, so I described an embrace. Here it is..
“There was nothing tentative or hesitant about his touch. He raises me to my feet and wraps me in his strong embrace. I inhale the clean smell of his robes and feel the roughness of the fabric against my cheek. The sun glistens off the pale hairs on his arms. I can feel his warmth seeping through his clothes and through my rags. Long forgotten sensations cascade over me as I stand enfolded. Just as the open sores of my leprosy break and bleed, my heart breaks and my hurts bleed out. He holds me close as I am drowned in a torrent of my pitiful and wretched tears. After a while I am still. I hear his heart beat in the peace after the storm. And we stand.
I am restored”.
When you are on the receiving end of a touch like that, no words are needed. Words perhaps would just dilute what you wanted to say. A cool hand shake, or a pat on the back that accompanies the words, “Glad to have you home, son,” pales into comparison. Give me that embrace any day!
In one of the first year units at school we explore a whole series of lessons on symbolic actions. One phrase that we talk about is “Actions speak louder than words.” In the story of the Prodigal son there are plenty of actions. The embrace that the son receives when he comes home is awesome.
I wrote a story about Jesus’ encounter with the man who had leprosy. Rather than just stand at a distance and say the words, “Be healed”, Jesus touches the man. I thought so long and hard about that touch. I didn’t want it to be a light touch on the shoulder as he spoke, so I described an embrace. Here it is..
“There was nothing tentative or hesitant about his touch. He raises me to my feet and wraps me in his strong embrace. I inhale the clean smell of his robes and feel the roughness of the fabric against my cheek. The sun glistens off the pale hairs on his arms. I can feel his warmth seeping through his clothes and through my rags. Long forgotten sensations cascade over me as I stand enfolded. Just as the open sores of my leprosy break and bleed, my heart breaks and my hurts bleed out. He holds me close as I am drowned in a torrent of my pitiful and wretched tears. After a while I am still. I hear his heart beat in the peace after the storm. And we stand.
I am restored”.
When you are on the receiving end of a touch like that, no words are needed. Words perhaps would just dilute what you wanted to say. A cool hand shake, or a pat on the back that accompanies the words, “Glad to have you home, son,” pales into comparison. Give me that embrace any day!
Sunday, July 16, 2006
The Lost Son 2 - The sequel
There are very few characters in the Bible that get the full story – a beginning, a middle and an end. Take the rich young ruler, for example. The last you hear of him is that the walks away from Jesus, sad because his riches mean too much to him. You don’t find out how perhaps two or three years later, it really hits him just how poor he really is because he is not with Jesus. Perhaps he gets around to selling all that he has and ends up church building in Ephesus! You just don’t know the ending of the story because the bible account stopped mid-way!
I was thinking about the story of the Lost Son this morning. It is just a story. There was a real rich man that walked away, but the lost son was just a character in a story. Even so you don’t really get the next episode in his life either. What happened the day after the party? Or what happened two months later on? Living back on the farm – after a while did it slip back into habit and routine and the longing for freedom return? Did he and his brother become reconciled in the end or was there always tension?
Musing this morning, I believe that his experience of the misery and horror of the pigsty coupled with the unqualified forgiveness of his father coloured his thinking from that day forth! I think every day he woke up almost expecting the smell of the pigsty and when he opened his eyes to experience his father’s abundance, joy just flowered. Each and every day!
He had been so far away from home. He had been so unfulfilled. He had been so empty. He had been so lost. What he was then – it was like someone else’s life. Now he woke up in a house where his father lived. He is given tasks to do that affirm his worth as a son, but also as a human being. He is full – is physical appetites are being met, he knows that he is loved and wanted. I believe that he found his soul when he returned home.
Psalm 90 begins “Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations. Before the mountains were born, or You brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting, You are God.” The lost son discovered that his dwelling place was with his father.
I want to wake up in the mornings, not forgetting that my existence before I knew God was pretty much a pigsty experience, and remembering now each day I open my eyes to experience his abundance. God is my dwelling place. God is my joy.
I was thinking about the story of the Lost Son this morning. It is just a story. There was a real rich man that walked away, but the lost son was just a character in a story. Even so you don’t really get the next episode in his life either. What happened the day after the party? Or what happened two months later on? Living back on the farm – after a while did it slip back into habit and routine and the longing for freedom return? Did he and his brother become reconciled in the end or was there always tension?
Musing this morning, I believe that his experience of the misery and horror of the pigsty coupled with the unqualified forgiveness of his father coloured his thinking from that day forth! I think every day he woke up almost expecting the smell of the pigsty and when he opened his eyes to experience his father’s abundance, joy just flowered. Each and every day!
He had been so far away from home. He had been so unfulfilled. He had been so empty. He had been so lost. What he was then – it was like someone else’s life. Now he woke up in a house where his father lived. He is given tasks to do that affirm his worth as a son, but also as a human being. He is full – is physical appetites are being met, he knows that he is loved and wanted. I believe that he found his soul when he returned home.
Psalm 90 begins “Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations. Before the mountains were born, or You brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting, You are God.” The lost son discovered that his dwelling place was with his father.
I want to wake up in the mornings, not forgetting that my existence before I knew God was pretty much a pigsty experience, and remembering now each day I open my eyes to experience his abundance. God is my dwelling place. God is my joy.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
No lily floating on still waters
Do I look mean and aggressive or something? Do I have a face like skelped backside? Do I go around muttering humbug? I am beginning to wonder!
I went to Blue Flame last night. I no longer add the “prayer meeting” part of it as it doesn’t always feature prayer. There was a mixture of praise and worship, and prayer and prophecy. I felt somewhat intimidated when everyone bar one man arrived with guitars. I got offered the use of guitar and encouraged to “bring an instrument” next time. I began to wonder if I had gate-crashed the worship practice instead. I respectfully declined the offer of a guitar and explained that I wasn’t a musician. If I had been more “on the ball” I would have said that my voice was my instrument – and I never went anywhere without it!
The worship was excellent. There was one guitar player who was just awesome. What he played was prophetic – that is the only word I can think of. It wasn’t a specific tune, or a rhythm but stirring stuff that just came on in waves. It reminded me of being on a beach, and watching the tide come in – it was a wave of sound. It prompted me to be very still and soaking in the peace and tranquillity of being with God.
I really enjoyed the worship. I have to admit that it seems very unfair that they get at least four guitar players in their church where we have two – an unequal distribution of resources! But it is more than the music. The heart and the intimacy were there too.
After a time of worship we began to pray. Maybe it is because of Patricia King and her intercession prayer course, but I am aware that I pray differently. I think I am more aggressive in my prayers. The content and delivery is so different! I don’t seem to pray nice prayers, with nice words and nice sentiments. I pray like a seasoned warrior – like I am in a battle! They are fighting words!
One very big problem for me last night was the volume. We were in a big room, high ceiling and everyone prayed in such quiet tones – it was really quiet and because I honestly couldn’t hear what folks were praying I couldn’t add my “Amen”. I know that my ears are not functioning well. I have tinnitus – ringing in the ears – and there is constant noise that I have to hear above. There are some people that I have given up trying to hear – they speak too quietly and I can’t hear them above the ringing that is there already. I wanted to say “Speak up!” If I had to explain about the ear thing I might have had to fend off offers to pray for my ears and I know that my faith level is not there!
Words of prophecy were spoken over people – me included. The first comment – which I think was spot on – was about finding God in the quiet places, by the still waters. I am so aware of the need to simply “be” and not be concerned about what I “do”. That really did register with my spirit. I am busy and involved in things and time spent in quiet can only do good.
The other words were mostly based around the recognition that I was a warrior, dressed in armour and heading out to the frontline. God was dressing me armour, that was highly polished and that I wasn’t green behind the ears but a seasoned fighter! I went with the weapons of worship! I liked that! The first speaker immediately came in with the warning not to replace the battlefield for the still waters – the quietness was essential for preparation for the battles!
A final word that someone walked across the room to say was that I shouldn’t take things so seriously. I should lighten up and have fun with God! I know that I have heard that one before. I wasn’t told to giggle this time! This “fun” thing – why do people suppose I don’t have fun? What is wrong with being serious? What is “fun” about fun? I think it was Tozer that rote once that faith is a serious thing, not something to be casual about. I am not a miserable woman. I hope I don’t look miserable! There is deep seated joy within me that maybe doesn’t erupt out of me in giggles. Maybe I do forget to smile. Maybe I do sound serious. I want to learn to tremble before God like Isaiah did. There are enough gigglers and funsters. Why do I have to be another one? I enjoy my walk with God. Yes, God does tell me to lighten up on occasions and not take things so seriously – but I am not a giggler!
What has this got to do with lilies floating on still waters? Well, later on in the evening as everyone got their time on the hot seat a picture was given about a young woman. She was like a huge white water lily floating on still waters. That was how God saw her. On the tip of my tongue was a riposte which if I had been with people I knew well, I would have said. “How does she get to be a water lily floating on tranquil waters while I get to be dressed in armour and marched out to the front line? Why can’t I be the water lily? I didn’t say it! I have no answer to that one – except I think I have tried tranquil and gentle and I prefer the frontline!
I went to Blue Flame last night. I no longer add the “prayer meeting” part of it as it doesn’t always feature prayer. There was a mixture of praise and worship, and prayer and prophecy. I felt somewhat intimidated when everyone bar one man arrived with guitars. I got offered the use of guitar and encouraged to “bring an instrument” next time. I began to wonder if I had gate-crashed the worship practice instead. I respectfully declined the offer of a guitar and explained that I wasn’t a musician. If I had been more “on the ball” I would have said that my voice was my instrument – and I never went anywhere without it!
The worship was excellent. There was one guitar player who was just awesome. What he played was prophetic – that is the only word I can think of. It wasn’t a specific tune, or a rhythm but stirring stuff that just came on in waves. It reminded me of being on a beach, and watching the tide come in – it was a wave of sound. It prompted me to be very still and soaking in the peace and tranquillity of being with God.
I really enjoyed the worship. I have to admit that it seems very unfair that they get at least four guitar players in their church where we have two – an unequal distribution of resources! But it is more than the music. The heart and the intimacy were there too.
After a time of worship we began to pray. Maybe it is because of Patricia King and her intercession prayer course, but I am aware that I pray differently. I think I am more aggressive in my prayers. The content and delivery is so different! I don’t seem to pray nice prayers, with nice words and nice sentiments. I pray like a seasoned warrior – like I am in a battle! They are fighting words!
One very big problem for me last night was the volume. We were in a big room, high ceiling and everyone prayed in such quiet tones – it was really quiet and because I honestly couldn’t hear what folks were praying I couldn’t add my “Amen”. I know that my ears are not functioning well. I have tinnitus – ringing in the ears – and there is constant noise that I have to hear above. There are some people that I have given up trying to hear – they speak too quietly and I can’t hear them above the ringing that is there already. I wanted to say “Speak up!” If I had to explain about the ear thing I might have had to fend off offers to pray for my ears and I know that my faith level is not there!
Words of prophecy were spoken over people – me included. The first comment – which I think was spot on – was about finding God in the quiet places, by the still waters. I am so aware of the need to simply “be” and not be concerned about what I “do”. That really did register with my spirit. I am busy and involved in things and time spent in quiet can only do good.
The other words were mostly based around the recognition that I was a warrior, dressed in armour and heading out to the frontline. God was dressing me armour, that was highly polished and that I wasn’t green behind the ears but a seasoned fighter! I went with the weapons of worship! I liked that! The first speaker immediately came in with the warning not to replace the battlefield for the still waters – the quietness was essential for preparation for the battles!
A final word that someone walked across the room to say was that I shouldn’t take things so seriously. I should lighten up and have fun with God! I know that I have heard that one before. I wasn’t told to giggle this time! This “fun” thing – why do people suppose I don’t have fun? What is wrong with being serious? What is “fun” about fun? I think it was Tozer that rote once that faith is a serious thing, not something to be casual about. I am not a miserable woman. I hope I don’t look miserable! There is deep seated joy within me that maybe doesn’t erupt out of me in giggles. Maybe I do forget to smile. Maybe I do sound serious. I want to learn to tremble before God like Isaiah did. There are enough gigglers and funsters. Why do I have to be another one? I enjoy my walk with God. Yes, God does tell me to lighten up on occasions and not take things so seriously – but I am not a giggler!
What has this got to do with lilies floating on still waters? Well, later on in the evening as everyone got their time on the hot seat a picture was given about a young woman. She was like a huge white water lily floating on still waters. That was how God saw her. On the tip of my tongue was a riposte which if I had been with people I knew well, I would have said. “How does she get to be a water lily floating on tranquil waters while I get to be dressed in armour and marched out to the front line? Why can’t I be the water lily? I didn’t say it! I have no answer to that one – except I think I have tried tranquil and gentle and I prefer the frontline!
Friday, June 30, 2006
Touching skin
Our church, during a mid week meeting, has been working through an intercession study course aimed at making prayer more effective and powerful. On Wednesday we were learning how to listen to God. Patricia King in her teaching had been encouraging us that God talks to us – that He wants to talk to us and that we all have the ability to hear from Him.
After a short time of worship we settled down to listen. I usually go into panic mode simply because what comes straight into my mind is “What if God talks to everyone else in the room, but He doesn’t talk to me!” I can usually think of a million things that would disqualify me from taking part!
Well, thoughts were going through my head, mostly about what God and I had been talking about from my quiet times – whether they were God directed, I will leave that up to you to decide.
Last weekend I popped into the City Forum. It is a message board specifically for Christian ladies, sparked off by a Faithwriter’s lady. I used to keep up to date with the Bible Study there last year. They are reading through the early chapters of Numbers. The Levites were assigned to help the priests with the running of the tabernacle. When it came down to moving the campsite along the route to the Promised Land, they were assigned things to carry. They didn’t just line up outside the tabernacle, but there was a list of their names, and each person, by name, was given a specific item to take. Each person was hand picked and their specific strengths and weaknesses taken into consideration. Who knows best, but God, what we can carry and what we can’t? There is a verse that says that God does not give us the things that we cannot bear that comes to mind. What God gives us to carry is not so heavy that we are broken by it.
OK – so that was what I “heard” from God. We didn’t have time to explore the specifics so we were encouraged to take it back to God and ask for the details! This is kind of mind-blowing! This is where God really “touches skin”.
What came across when I talked it over with God was firstly the word “Protection”. A lot of the instructions God gives at the start of Numbers are down to God’s desire to protect his people. Living in the midst of them is dangerous for them – He is holy, and they are not. They are dealing with sensitive dynamite and things have to be correctly handled. God assigning certain items to specific people is a matter of protection. It is fair to say that some of us have an unrealistic view of our abilities. We are not as strong as we think we are. The temptation for us is to take on board more than we can handle and we get burnt out. For some of us, it may be the opposite – we are actually much stronger than we think, but we rule ourselves out and we never really get to exercise our spiritual muscles properly. By God assigning specific tasks He gets the best out of us.
So the anointing that God gives for a task is not haphazard and random, but carefully orchestrated. The things that I do must be the things that God has set me apart to do and not the stuff I think I am capable of doing. They are the things that no one else has been assigned to do and they are matched to my strengths and weaknesses.
This is when God got really personal! Suppose as a Levite you turn up at the tabernacle. Every time you have moved camp you have been given things to carry. Sometimes it’s the same item you are carrying. Sometimes it’s something a little different – but you always have something to do. Suppose that one time you turn up and the priest turns you away – there is nothing for you to carry! Suppose the next time you turn up, you get turned away – again there is nothing for you to carry. And perhaps a third time, and a fourth time. What questions go through your mind? What do you think about? Do you automatically think – “Oh wonderful, I get to help my wife pack and move our stuff.” Or “I was really needing a rest!” or more likely perhaps, “What is wrong with me? Why am I being passed over here? Have I done something to offend the priests, or God?” The man has got used to doing stuff, but suddenly, he feels like he is being made redundant!
See this protection thing – it is not just a physical thing of not being given too heavy a burden to carry. I think it is also a spiritual thing. We have a tendency to measure value according to what a person does. We perhaps measure our value on the basis of what we contribute or the part we play in the church setting. If we do nothing, we think we have no value. If we had a job, and then it gets taken off us and given to someone else, we jump to a conclusion perhaps that the other person must be better than we are. Maybe this is just me and everyone else is a lot less complex! The world moves on whether I carry something or not – I am not the centre of the universe. God can work without me and he chooses to do so at times. Learning just to “be” and not to “do” is so important.
Are you still with me? Let’s forget about the “suppose”! The phrase I am playing with now is “touching skin” – when something touches you up close and it is not just theory or head knowledge. Just recently our church meetings have moved into the town centre. I don’t know how many weeks we have been there. I am aware that since moving into the town centre I have not been invited to lead worship. There is a small trickle of thoughts along the line of “What is wrong with me? Why am I being passed over here? Have I done something to offend someone?” It is a very small trickle that I don’t give space to because I know that there is nothing wrong, that I am not being passed over and that had I offended anyone, I would have been told. But it is a challenge! I feel like the Levite who turns up expecting to carry something and gets sent home empty handed. I am used to doing something and not just being something.
The challenge for me is to enjoy the rest and the space I am being given. There is space particularly to explore what else God has got in mind for me – that I am not limited to leading worship or preaching in a Sunday meeting setting – but something Melanie-sized and shaped in the wider setting of church in the community. It is kind of exciting – it is scary too!
After a short time of worship we settled down to listen. I usually go into panic mode simply because what comes straight into my mind is “What if God talks to everyone else in the room, but He doesn’t talk to me!” I can usually think of a million things that would disqualify me from taking part!
Well, thoughts were going through my head, mostly about what God and I had been talking about from my quiet times – whether they were God directed, I will leave that up to you to decide.
Last weekend I popped into the City Forum. It is a message board specifically for Christian ladies, sparked off by a Faithwriter’s lady. I used to keep up to date with the Bible Study there last year. They are reading through the early chapters of Numbers. The Levites were assigned to help the priests with the running of the tabernacle. When it came down to moving the campsite along the route to the Promised Land, they were assigned things to carry. They didn’t just line up outside the tabernacle, but there was a list of their names, and each person, by name, was given a specific item to take. Each person was hand picked and their specific strengths and weaknesses taken into consideration. Who knows best, but God, what we can carry and what we can’t? There is a verse that says that God does not give us the things that we cannot bear that comes to mind. What God gives us to carry is not so heavy that we are broken by it.
OK – so that was what I “heard” from God. We didn’t have time to explore the specifics so we were encouraged to take it back to God and ask for the details! This is kind of mind-blowing! This is where God really “touches skin”.
What came across when I talked it over with God was firstly the word “Protection”. A lot of the instructions God gives at the start of Numbers are down to God’s desire to protect his people. Living in the midst of them is dangerous for them – He is holy, and they are not. They are dealing with sensitive dynamite and things have to be correctly handled. God assigning certain items to specific people is a matter of protection. It is fair to say that some of us have an unrealistic view of our abilities. We are not as strong as we think we are. The temptation for us is to take on board more than we can handle and we get burnt out. For some of us, it may be the opposite – we are actually much stronger than we think, but we rule ourselves out and we never really get to exercise our spiritual muscles properly. By God assigning specific tasks He gets the best out of us.
So the anointing that God gives for a task is not haphazard and random, but carefully orchestrated. The things that I do must be the things that God has set me apart to do and not the stuff I think I am capable of doing. They are the things that no one else has been assigned to do and they are matched to my strengths and weaknesses.
This is when God got really personal! Suppose as a Levite you turn up at the tabernacle. Every time you have moved camp you have been given things to carry. Sometimes it’s the same item you are carrying. Sometimes it’s something a little different – but you always have something to do. Suppose that one time you turn up and the priest turns you away – there is nothing for you to carry! Suppose the next time you turn up, you get turned away – again there is nothing for you to carry. And perhaps a third time, and a fourth time. What questions go through your mind? What do you think about? Do you automatically think – “Oh wonderful, I get to help my wife pack and move our stuff.” Or “I was really needing a rest!” or more likely perhaps, “What is wrong with me? Why am I being passed over here? Have I done something to offend the priests, or God?” The man has got used to doing stuff, but suddenly, he feels like he is being made redundant!
See this protection thing – it is not just a physical thing of not being given too heavy a burden to carry. I think it is also a spiritual thing. We have a tendency to measure value according to what a person does. We perhaps measure our value on the basis of what we contribute or the part we play in the church setting. If we do nothing, we think we have no value. If we had a job, and then it gets taken off us and given to someone else, we jump to a conclusion perhaps that the other person must be better than we are. Maybe this is just me and everyone else is a lot less complex! The world moves on whether I carry something or not – I am not the centre of the universe. God can work without me and he chooses to do so at times. Learning just to “be” and not to “do” is so important.
Are you still with me? Let’s forget about the “suppose”! The phrase I am playing with now is “touching skin” – when something touches you up close and it is not just theory or head knowledge. Just recently our church meetings have moved into the town centre. I don’t know how many weeks we have been there. I am aware that since moving into the town centre I have not been invited to lead worship. There is a small trickle of thoughts along the line of “What is wrong with me? Why am I being passed over here? Have I done something to offend someone?” It is a very small trickle that I don’t give space to because I know that there is nothing wrong, that I am not being passed over and that had I offended anyone, I would have been told. But it is a challenge! I feel like the Levite who turns up expecting to carry something and gets sent home empty handed. I am used to doing something and not just being something.
The challenge for me is to enjoy the rest and the space I am being given. There is space particularly to explore what else God has got in mind for me – that I am not limited to leading worship or preaching in a Sunday meeting setting – but something Melanie-sized and shaped in the wider setting of church in the community. It is kind of exciting – it is scary too!
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
World Cup misery
This year I have watched more than my usual dose of football. In the staff room sweepstake I picked out Croatia for the World Cup. They have not managed to move into the next round. I watched all their matches quite faithfully and also picked up one or two of the players’ names. One night they were playing, I went as far as finding a recipe for a Croatian beef stew to cook that evening. I think I did my stuff!
However, they failed to do their stuff. They played brilliantly against Brazil, but scored no goals and lost 1-0. They played against Japan, but with few sparks igniting and drew that match. They lost to Australia. I have to confess that I stopped watching the game quite early on. They were committing some fairly outrageous fouls. It went beyond hanging onto jumpers and tripping up the opposition – it was appalling. As I told my fourth years boys the following day – I can’t abide bad behaviour whether it is in the classroom or on the football field. They replied, “It’s a man’s game!” and “It’s a contact sport!” but even so…I still don’t think that excuses a lack of sportsmanship.
I am feeling quite convicted though of my abandonment of Croatia! I was reading this morning in Psalm 106 of Israel’s list of appalling behaviour towards God. Theirs was not the holding on to jumpers and tripping folks up kind of bad behaviour. The Israelites involved themselves in all a huge catalogue of extreme wickedness including sacrificing their children to idols! They were really bad – but in verse 44 God does not abandon them. It says that He had pity. He heard their cries. He remembered the covenant He made. He remembered the unfailing love he had for them.
I am convicted that I often tie in support and encouragement for people with behaviour. I am like the governments of so many countries – I will give aid as long as the man on the receiving end maintains a good human rights record! It is natural inclination I suppose.
But God is not like that! Unfailing love is exactly what it says! God’s love is not conditional upon good behaviour. He does not love me because I am good. He does not love me more if I am very good, as opposed to just good! He doesn’t cease to love me when I am bad. Disappointed perhaps, but He never withdraws his love.
At the end of the day, I supported Croatia because I drew their name out of a hat. I didn’t look at all the other teams and deliberately choose Croatia. I didn’t come to love them!
God chose me and that makes all the difference!
However, they failed to do their stuff. They played brilliantly against Brazil, but scored no goals and lost 1-0. They played against Japan, but with few sparks igniting and drew that match. They lost to Australia. I have to confess that I stopped watching the game quite early on. They were committing some fairly outrageous fouls. It went beyond hanging onto jumpers and tripping up the opposition – it was appalling. As I told my fourth years boys the following day – I can’t abide bad behaviour whether it is in the classroom or on the football field. They replied, “It’s a man’s game!” and “It’s a contact sport!” but even so…I still don’t think that excuses a lack of sportsmanship.
I am feeling quite convicted though of my abandonment of Croatia! I was reading this morning in Psalm 106 of Israel’s list of appalling behaviour towards God. Theirs was not the holding on to jumpers and tripping folks up kind of bad behaviour. The Israelites involved themselves in all a huge catalogue of extreme wickedness including sacrificing their children to idols! They were really bad – but in verse 44 God does not abandon them. It says that He had pity. He heard their cries. He remembered the covenant He made. He remembered the unfailing love he had for them.
I am convicted that I often tie in support and encouragement for people with behaviour. I am like the governments of so many countries – I will give aid as long as the man on the receiving end maintains a good human rights record! It is natural inclination I suppose.
But God is not like that! Unfailing love is exactly what it says! God’s love is not conditional upon good behaviour. He does not love me because I am good. He does not love me more if I am very good, as opposed to just good! He doesn’t cease to love me when I am bad. Disappointed perhaps, but He never withdraws his love.
At the end of the day, I supported Croatia because I drew their name out of a hat. I didn’t look at all the other teams and deliberately choose Croatia. I didn’t come to love them!
God chose me and that makes all the difference!
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Promise keeping
I was reading Leviticus 27 today. It was all about making vows - making voluntary vows, and then regretting making the vow and wanting to get whatever you had given back. There was a fixed penalty of an added 20% on top of the value of the goods if a person chose to renege on a vow - that they had to pay more than the good were worth. If they tried to do a swap with a lesser item - they lost both things. If they regretted giving their number one bull and wanted to do a swap for their number two bull, they lost both bulls! And then there were just some things they just couldn't get back at all!
We all make promises - to pray more regularly, to read so many chapters of the Bible each day, to witness more often. When we make the vows we are being sincere. We have no intention of going back on what we promise to do. But then "real life" kicks in. We have only so much time and so many things to do and the prayers and the Bible reading get edged out and we just can't seem to get up enough confidence to speak to someone about our faith. Then we end up feeling guilty - so we make another promise!
There are a couple of parables that come to mind about counting the cost - the man that builds a tower and runs out of money before he can finish, and the king that goes to war and then decided he doesn't really have a great army and thinks about surrendering.
The parable of the tower really sticks in my mind. I lived in Cyprus for a number of years, teaching in a church school in Limassol. Living there was like living on a huge building site There were always buildings going up. It was common to build another level on top of your home to accommodate your son or daughter when they were married - so nothing ever really looked finished.
In particular there was a half finished hotel called the King Richard Hotel. The man began building it. There were the bare bones of a couple of dozen or so floors. Then he ran out of money and the unfinished building became a city landmark - but not a hotel! The year I left, some corporation bought the building and completed it - the bottom floor was given over to Woolworth's - the biggest store in the city at the time!
God knows what we are like about promises. In Leviticus 27 He made provision for the promise breakers - but he doesn't make it easy provision. It comes at a cost. I know what I am like about promises too! I always have second and third and fourth doubts about jumping in with something because I know that perhaps in a few weeks I will loose the enthusiasm and it will become a chore or a duty. Maybe that is not very "faith" inspired - maybe I just need to stop listening to the voices!! But there is this sense of knowing your history! Reading Leviticus 27, does that mean I should never make the promises in the first place? There is sense where I am called to live in the present tense - not worrying now whether in the future I will go back on my promise, because my past history tells me I will. God gives me all the resources I need, so I shouldn't have to go back on my promises!
Interestingly enough, on a preaching CD, Patricia King spoke about "seasons" of things. At the time she was in a season of prayer and felt quite able to pray eight hours in the day! She recognised that it was a "season" and not a life long commitment. Maybe that is the way ahead - stress that it is for a season!
God is a promise keeper! We are to imitate God and be promise keepers too. If we are reflecting the character of God and do not keep our promises or vows, it is like saying to people around us that perhaps the God we follow doesn't keep his promises either!
We all make promises - to pray more regularly, to read so many chapters of the Bible each day, to witness more often. When we make the vows we are being sincere. We have no intention of going back on what we promise to do. But then "real life" kicks in. We have only so much time and so many things to do and the prayers and the Bible reading get edged out and we just can't seem to get up enough confidence to speak to someone about our faith. Then we end up feeling guilty - so we make another promise!
There are a couple of parables that come to mind about counting the cost - the man that builds a tower and runs out of money before he can finish, and the king that goes to war and then decided he doesn't really have a great army and thinks about surrendering.
The parable of the tower really sticks in my mind. I lived in Cyprus for a number of years, teaching in a church school in Limassol. Living there was like living on a huge building site There were always buildings going up. It was common to build another level on top of your home to accommodate your son or daughter when they were married - so nothing ever really looked finished.
In particular there was a half finished hotel called the King Richard Hotel. The man began building it. There were the bare bones of a couple of dozen or so floors. Then he ran out of money and the unfinished building became a city landmark - but not a hotel! The year I left, some corporation bought the building and completed it - the bottom floor was given over to Woolworth's - the biggest store in the city at the time!
God knows what we are like about promises. In Leviticus 27 He made provision for the promise breakers - but he doesn't make it easy provision. It comes at a cost. I know what I am like about promises too! I always have second and third and fourth doubts about jumping in with something because I know that perhaps in a few weeks I will loose the enthusiasm and it will become a chore or a duty. Maybe that is not very "faith" inspired - maybe I just need to stop listening to the voices!! But there is this sense of knowing your history! Reading Leviticus 27, does that mean I should never make the promises in the first place? There is sense where I am called to live in the present tense - not worrying now whether in the future I will go back on my promise, because my past history tells me I will. God gives me all the resources I need, so I shouldn't have to go back on my promises!
Interestingly enough, on a preaching CD, Patricia King spoke about "seasons" of things. At the time she was in a season of prayer and felt quite able to pray eight hours in the day! She recognised that it was a "season" and not a life long commitment. Maybe that is the way ahead - stress that it is for a season!
God is a promise keeper! We are to imitate God and be promise keepers too. If we are reflecting the character of God and do not keep our promises or vows, it is like saying to people around us that perhaps the God we follow doesn't keep his promises either!
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Wine into water?
I was listening to Radio 2 in the car this morning. The news reports had finished and Terry Wogan was commenting on the last item. Apparently Europe is producing more wine than people want to drink. Just like there are butter mountains and cheese mountains, there are also wine lakes! There is a surplus of produce. It seems that most Europeans are drinking less wine, and those that aren't - like the British, Irish and Swedes - are turning to Australia, or South Africa or South America for their wines. The government wants to pay wine makers to dig up some Europe's vineyards.
Terry commented that if only they could pipe the wine over to this country, fill the empty reservoirs, all that would be needed would be someone to turn the wine into water and we would all be happy!
My immediate thought was that many people would not get the reference. Terry’s comment was turning a biblical story on its head. Jesus turned water into wine at a wedding.
I can’t remember when I first realised that cultural references that I take for granted are not known anymore. I remember teaching a unit of work on Jesus parables. This was way back in the 1980s. I quite confidently asked the pupils to make a list of the parables Jesus taught. Two thirds of the pupils were from Indian families, and were Hindus or Sikhs, but surprisingly enough they were the ones that could do it! The rest of the class looked at me with blank faces. Parables? Jesus they knew about, but parables were a mystery.. After a lot of crowd manipulation, rephrasing and leading questions we managed to come up with the Good Samaritan! Someone may have suggested the Sower, and I think the Prodigal Son was levered out from deepest darkest memories!
I don’t think the word for this is “sad”. I think it is more serious than sadness! I was reading at the end of 2 Kings where Josiah’s priests, are given the instructions to collect money to repair the temple. When they start the renovations, they find hidden in a wall the Book of the Law – a record of God’s covenant. Josiah is appalled when he reads the book – appalled not just that they hadn’t been doing it, but they hadn’t even been aware that they were supposed to be doing it!
How do these things slip through our fingers? A friend and I were talking last week about the need to remember important things that God had said to us. For the Jews they did it tying boxes onto their foreheads or nailing little boxes onto their door-posts. The boxes contained a verse of scripture spoken by God.
What do we do to remember? The alternative to remembering is forgetting. What do we do to make sure that we don’t forget? I think part of it is simply talking about it. Isn’t that what witnessing is all about. There is a verse somewhere In Philomen (she says hesitantly) about sharing the gospel is good for us because it makes us more sure of exactly what it is that we believe. It strengthens our faith.
Joe and I are avid watchers of “Lost”. There have been one or two episodes where genuine Christian faith has formed a part of the story line with people praying and talking about their spirituality – not New Age mysticism, but the realities of believing in God when the world and reason say otherwise.
Terry commented that if only they could pipe the wine over to this country, fill the empty reservoirs, all that would be needed would be someone to turn the wine into water and we would all be happy!
My immediate thought was that many people would not get the reference. Terry’s comment was turning a biblical story on its head. Jesus turned water into wine at a wedding.
I can’t remember when I first realised that cultural references that I take for granted are not known anymore. I remember teaching a unit of work on Jesus parables. This was way back in the 1980s. I quite confidently asked the pupils to make a list of the parables Jesus taught. Two thirds of the pupils were from Indian families, and were Hindus or Sikhs, but surprisingly enough they were the ones that could do it! The rest of the class looked at me with blank faces. Parables? Jesus they knew about, but parables were a mystery.. After a lot of crowd manipulation, rephrasing and leading questions we managed to come up with the Good Samaritan! Someone may have suggested the Sower, and I think the Prodigal Son was levered out from deepest darkest memories!
I don’t think the word for this is “sad”. I think it is more serious than sadness! I was reading at the end of 2 Kings where Josiah’s priests, are given the instructions to collect money to repair the temple. When they start the renovations, they find hidden in a wall the Book of the Law – a record of God’s covenant. Josiah is appalled when he reads the book – appalled not just that they hadn’t been doing it, but they hadn’t even been aware that they were supposed to be doing it!
How do these things slip through our fingers? A friend and I were talking last week about the need to remember important things that God had said to us. For the Jews they did it tying boxes onto their foreheads or nailing little boxes onto their door-posts. The boxes contained a verse of scripture spoken by God.
What do we do to remember? The alternative to remembering is forgetting. What do we do to make sure that we don’t forget? I think part of it is simply talking about it. Isn’t that what witnessing is all about. There is a verse somewhere In Philomen (she says hesitantly) about sharing the gospel is good for us because it makes us more sure of exactly what it is that we believe. It strengthens our faith.
Joe and I are avid watchers of “Lost”. There have been one or two episodes where genuine Christian faith has formed a part of the story line with people praying and talking about their spirituality – not New Age mysticism, but the realities of believing in God when the world and reason say otherwise.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Deep fried caramel wafers
An interesting newspaper article cropped up last week. I have never tried it myself but some Scottish fish and chip shops sell battered deep fried Mars bars. The sound of it doesn't appeal to me at all.
Since Mars bars got renamed "Believe" for the World Cup, and are supposed to encourage us to believe that England will win, sales have plummeted in Scotland! The English don't really understand why the Scots don't get behind them seeing as Scotland are not in it.
Since deep fried Mars bars, or Believe bars, are all but impossible to sell, some chippies have been looking at other things to deep fry instead. Tunnocks Caramel Wafers fit the bill and are not quite so sweet.
It may seem rather petty. It is just a name. Take off the wrapper and it is just a Mars bar. The ingredients haven't changed at all. The colour scheme of the wrapper hasn't changed either - it is just that one word "Believe" and everything that is associated with it.
Personally I don't believe England will win - I don't want them to win because in the school sweepstake I picked out Croatia! I don't think eating a Mars bar or not eating one is going to a make a difference. I also don't think that believing that they will win means that they will win.
I am not sure whether there is any honour in refusing to buy a Mars bar, deep fried or not because of England's World Cup campaign, but is a matter compromising deeply held beliefs for many people. Not compromising is important, but the issue has to be a important one and I am not sure that it is - not for me anyway.
Since Mars bars got renamed "Believe" for the World Cup, and are supposed to encourage us to believe that England will win, sales have plummeted in Scotland! The English don't really understand why the Scots don't get behind them seeing as Scotland are not in it.
Since deep fried Mars bars, or Believe bars, are all but impossible to sell, some chippies have been looking at other things to deep fry instead. Tunnocks Caramel Wafers fit the bill and are not quite so sweet.
It may seem rather petty. It is just a name. Take off the wrapper and it is just a Mars bar. The ingredients haven't changed at all. The colour scheme of the wrapper hasn't changed either - it is just that one word "Believe" and everything that is associated with it.
Personally I don't believe England will win - I don't want them to win because in the school sweepstake I picked out Croatia! I don't think eating a Mars bar or not eating one is going to a make a difference. I also don't think that believing that they will win means that they will win.
I am not sure whether there is any honour in refusing to buy a Mars bar, deep fried or not because of England's World Cup campaign, but is a matter compromising deeply held beliefs for many people. Not compromising is important, but the issue has to be a important one and I am not sure that it is - not for me anyway.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
The transformation process
When you are a part of a small church, there are only so many planned meetings that are possible throughout the week, but we have always been encouraged to use our own initiative for the "unplanned" meetings. If there is something on our hearts that we wish to pursue, then we will get all the support we need to do it, but it is up to us to do it!
A few weeks ago I spoke, quite passionately apparently, about the need to be transformed. The whole process of the Christian life should be to make me more like Jesus. Through every encounter that I have with God - through worship, through His word, through prayer - every encounter - I should be changing. I shouldn't be struggling year in and year out with the same problems. The rest of the church should be involved in my transformation. It says somewhere in scripture about iron sharpening iron. If I am not being transformed then something is wrong somewhere. I had been reading about one of the kings in the Old Testament. He had made an attempt to repair the temple, the external visible part of worship, but without there being an invisible change on the inside - he did nothing about the shrines on the hills and under the trees - it was not effective. As a church we have been so pleased about the move into the town centre. It has given us a fresh vision - but that is just the externals. Moving the church from one place to another physically needs to accompany a move spiritually to a deeper relationship with God. I am not saying that is not happening because it is!
Afterwards one of my friends came up to me and asked if we might study the Bible together. I brought the study books and we met on Thursday for the first time.
I am sure that you have those times when you never realised you had lost something until you found it again! I didn't realise just how much I needed to come to the Bible with other people and simply talk about what I had learned. I read the Bible daily and I study to apply what I learn - this Thursday was just another planet altogether! There is one thing talking through what you learn with God during a quiet time and another thing talking it over with people.
The study book was about women in the Old Testament. "Women" orientated books are normally avoided by me, not because I am not a woman, but sometimes they focus on things that to some extent are irrelevant to me. I don't consider myself a home builder - that is probably why my home looks like a pigsty! I don't have children to bring up. I chose the study because my friend, who is a young woman, needs that kind of teaching. She is on the cusp of all these things!
I seriously didn't know just how much I needed this study. I have a tendency towards self sufficiency. I don't always expect people to help, I don't ask often enough, I just get on with the business, and I don't always realise just how much I am struggling. Being self sufficient is not what Jesus intends - that is not "body" thinking.
I learned so much on Thursday - about the life of Eve, who I thought I knew anyway but didn't really! The ways that other people look at things really threw a light on areas that I had never thought about! This was not just head stuff - but life stuff! I leaned so much about the lives of my friends. Quite often the questions in the study were just jumping off points to share heart. I know what to pray about for these women because of what they shared - not more guessing! I learned a lot about myself too.
It could have been a very cerebral meeting. We are intelligent women. It was not a meeting of heads and brains dissecting the word - but three friends wanting to get to know God better. I have much to put into practice!
A few weeks ago I spoke, quite passionately apparently, about the need to be transformed. The whole process of the Christian life should be to make me more like Jesus. Through every encounter that I have with God - through worship, through His word, through prayer - every encounter - I should be changing. I shouldn't be struggling year in and year out with the same problems. The rest of the church should be involved in my transformation. It says somewhere in scripture about iron sharpening iron. If I am not being transformed then something is wrong somewhere. I had been reading about one of the kings in the Old Testament. He had made an attempt to repair the temple, the external visible part of worship, but without there being an invisible change on the inside - he did nothing about the shrines on the hills and under the trees - it was not effective. As a church we have been so pleased about the move into the town centre. It has given us a fresh vision - but that is just the externals. Moving the church from one place to another physically needs to accompany a move spiritually to a deeper relationship with God. I am not saying that is not happening because it is!
Afterwards one of my friends came up to me and asked if we might study the Bible together. I brought the study books and we met on Thursday for the first time.
I am sure that you have those times when you never realised you had lost something until you found it again! I didn't realise just how much I needed to come to the Bible with other people and simply talk about what I had learned. I read the Bible daily and I study to apply what I learn - this Thursday was just another planet altogether! There is one thing talking through what you learn with God during a quiet time and another thing talking it over with people.
The study book was about women in the Old Testament. "Women" orientated books are normally avoided by me, not because I am not a woman, but sometimes they focus on things that to some extent are irrelevant to me. I don't consider myself a home builder - that is probably why my home looks like a pigsty! I don't have children to bring up. I chose the study because my friend, who is a young woman, needs that kind of teaching. She is on the cusp of all these things!
I seriously didn't know just how much I needed this study. I have a tendency towards self sufficiency. I don't always expect people to help, I don't ask often enough, I just get on with the business, and I don't always realise just how much I am struggling. Being self sufficient is not what Jesus intends - that is not "body" thinking.
I learned so much on Thursday - about the life of Eve, who I thought I knew anyway but didn't really! The ways that other people look at things really threw a light on areas that I had never thought about! This was not just head stuff - but life stuff! I leaned so much about the lives of my friends. Quite often the questions in the study were just jumping off points to share heart. I know what to pray about for these women because of what they shared - not more guessing! I learned a lot about myself too.
It could have been a very cerebral meeting. We are intelligent women. It was not a meeting of heads and brains dissecting the word - but three friends wanting to get to know God better. I have much to put into practice!
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Anything to declare? Plenty!
I made it to Blue Flame last night. The last time I went - just about a year ago (ouch!) I was very disappointed because I had set it up in my mind to be this great dynamic prayer meeting and it wasn't. Yesterday I went with no agenda - just a desire to be where God was. Now I know that God is everywhere - even with me as I sit in front of my computer doing my first year reports - BUT I just wanted to hang out, relaxed and chilling with God.
If you were to judge the success or failure of something based on the numbers of people who attend - then it was a failure. There were few people there, but it did not bother me because I had the sense that God had just the very people in the room that he was looking for. We are talking about very few people. I was getting a bit fidgety because it started late! I can do late starts if there is a cup of tea to be guzzle.
The leader had selected songs that regular visitors would know. There were too few of us for any of us to be passengers or observers, so lying on a table were a dozen or so songbooks - pretty much outdated. Matt Redman didn't get a look in! There was a violin player - awesome! The presence of God was just tangible - hairs on the back of your neck stuff. I spent a considerable amount of time on my knees - no tears, no break downs, just aware that I was with God. I loved the old songs, I loved singing them, I loved the violin music that stirred me and I loved just being there.
I really appreciated being unknown to everyone in the sense that no one had any expectations of what I would do. They didn't know if I could hold a note, if I could sing in the spirit - they knew nothing about me, and that was a release just to do what I liked or not do anything at all.
After a couple of hours of worship songs, we decided to call it a night - pray for one another if anyone wanted prayer. This was about ten o'clock. I got the impression that this was the usual time it ended - although when the meetings had first began six in the morning was more normal! God had no intentions of knocking off that early.
We began praying for each other - and then other people kept arriving! It was like we had just finished praying for one person, and then another couple would arrive. After they had been prayed for someone else would walk through the door. And then another person…and another. The more people there were, the longer it took to pray for people as everyone wanted their "shot".
What came to mind was what I had learned about prayer through being with the big boys a few weeks ago. I was faced with a roomful of people that I knew nothing about. From what they asked to be prayed for, and from other people's prayers for them I could glean a few things, but on the whole I was waiting for the Spirit. You know what? I didn't pray! I declared things. I had an awesome sense of God's anointing. The Holy Spirit would give me a single word, or phrase to get me going. It was awesome - I could just feel something breaking in the heavenlies each time. There were lots of words spoken over different people - but when I put my hand on their shoulder and did this declaring thing - something else was going on.
I just wanted to be with God - without any plans of my own…and I was. We knocked off at midnight and I floated home!
If you were to judge the success or failure of something based on the numbers of people who attend - then it was a failure. There were few people there, but it did not bother me because I had the sense that God had just the very people in the room that he was looking for. We are talking about very few people. I was getting a bit fidgety because it started late! I can do late starts if there is a cup of tea to be guzzle.
The leader had selected songs that regular visitors would know. There were too few of us for any of us to be passengers or observers, so lying on a table were a dozen or so songbooks - pretty much outdated. Matt Redman didn't get a look in! There was a violin player - awesome! The presence of God was just tangible - hairs on the back of your neck stuff. I spent a considerable amount of time on my knees - no tears, no break downs, just aware that I was with God. I loved the old songs, I loved singing them, I loved the violin music that stirred me and I loved just being there.
I really appreciated being unknown to everyone in the sense that no one had any expectations of what I would do. They didn't know if I could hold a note, if I could sing in the spirit - they knew nothing about me, and that was a release just to do what I liked or not do anything at all.
After a couple of hours of worship songs, we decided to call it a night - pray for one another if anyone wanted prayer. This was about ten o'clock. I got the impression that this was the usual time it ended - although when the meetings had first began six in the morning was more normal! God had no intentions of knocking off that early.
We began praying for each other - and then other people kept arriving! It was like we had just finished praying for one person, and then another couple would arrive. After they had been prayed for someone else would walk through the door. And then another person…and another. The more people there were, the longer it took to pray for people as everyone wanted their "shot".
What came to mind was what I had learned about prayer through being with the big boys a few weeks ago. I was faced with a roomful of people that I knew nothing about. From what they asked to be prayed for, and from other people's prayers for them I could glean a few things, but on the whole I was waiting for the Spirit. You know what? I didn't pray! I declared things. I had an awesome sense of God's anointing. The Holy Spirit would give me a single word, or phrase to get me going. It was awesome - I could just feel something breaking in the heavenlies each time. There were lots of words spoken over different people - but when I put my hand on their shoulder and did this declaring thing - something else was going on.
I just wanted to be with God - without any plans of my own…and I was. We knocked off at midnight and I floated home!
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Standing up for the little people
I have to confess that I am not really a political animal. Like many people I feel that decisions are made regardless of what I think – politicians just go ahead and do it anyway. I am married to a wonderful man that does not think like that. He is the chairperson of the northern branch of his union.
There is a scene in the movie “The Railway Children” where there has been a landslide and the only way to stop the train is to stand on the lines and wave a something to catch the attention of the train driver and force him to stop. This so eloquently describes what my husband does.
Right now discussions are taking place to decide whether the Crofter’s Commission employees are to remain civil servants or to loose their civil service status. It may not be the biggest train coming down the track, but it effects the staff of the Crofter’s Commission. The label “civil servant” doesn’t make them a better worker, but it guarantees an established set of working conditions. There is no guarantee that any of those working conditions will be honoured once the Crofters Commission looses its civil service status. Promises were made to protect the worker’s right that ministers and management seem to be able to conveniently lay aside.
Sometimes the decisions of management and bosses are not made to benefit the workers. Many people just let it happen, mostly because they don’t know what to do, or how to do it. My husband does know what to do, and the times that he is not sure what to do, he makes it is job to find out. Any business is only as good as the people who work there. If the workers do not feel valued, they don’t produce the best that they are capable of doing.
Unions provide a service to workers to ensure that their rights are protected and their needs in the working environment are met. Being a teacher I am a member of a union. A large part of becoming a member was down to being married to a union man. Before I joined the union I hoped that I would never encounter a serious enough problem to need their assistance – and of course, it all costs money and you wonder if it is worth it.
There seems to be a minefield in Christian circles about whether people should join unions or not. They think they are “worldly” organisations, not set up by “The Church” and full of “trouble-makers stirring things up”. It is sad that an area where the church should be the frontrunner – protecting vulnerable people – is left to the world to make a difference. God is interested in the WHOLE person – not just the praying, singing, reading the Bible person. We spend a third of our lives in our work environment – and God is interested in that third.
We live in a society that has forgotten how to look after one another. I just wanted to say that I am proud to be married to someone that hasn’t!
There is a scene in the movie “The Railway Children” where there has been a landslide and the only way to stop the train is to stand on the lines and wave a something to catch the attention of the train driver and force him to stop. This so eloquently describes what my husband does.
Right now discussions are taking place to decide whether the Crofter’s Commission employees are to remain civil servants or to loose their civil service status. It may not be the biggest train coming down the track, but it effects the staff of the Crofter’s Commission. The label “civil servant” doesn’t make them a better worker, but it guarantees an established set of working conditions. There is no guarantee that any of those working conditions will be honoured once the Crofters Commission looses its civil service status. Promises were made to protect the worker’s right that ministers and management seem to be able to conveniently lay aside.
Sometimes the decisions of management and bosses are not made to benefit the workers. Many people just let it happen, mostly because they don’t know what to do, or how to do it. My husband does know what to do, and the times that he is not sure what to do, he makes it is job to find out. Any business is only as good as the people who work there. If the workers do not feel valued, they don’t produce the best that they are capable of doing.
Unions provide a service to workers to ensure that their rights are protected and their needs in the working environment are met. Being a teacher I am a member of a union. A large part of becoming a member was down to being married to a union man. Before I joined the union I hoped that I would never encounter a serious enough problem to need their assistance – and of course, it all costs money and you wonder if it is worth it.
There seems to be a minefield in Christian circles about whether people should join unions or not. They think they are “worldly” organisations, not set up by “The Church” and full of “trouble-makers stirring things up”. It is sad that an area where the church should be the frontrunner – protecting vulnerable people – is left to the world to make a difference. God is interested in the WHOLE person – not just the praying, singing, reading the Bible person. We spend a third of our lives in our work environment – and God is interested in that third.
We live in a society that has forgotten how to look after one another. I just wanted to say that I am proud to be married to someone that hasn’t!
Friday, May 12, 2006
Irresistible to God
The FW weekly challenge last week was "Hope". My husband Joe preached a sermon on hope many, many years ago. At the time we were not married, and I am not sure if we were even courting at the time. He hadn't been a Christian for long, but he has a kind of inbuilt maturity about him and had been asked to bring the word. At the time he was lodging with another lad, Dave, in the church, who was also the manager of a large hotel in Inverness. After Joe had spoken, Dave went up to him to apologise for not paying enough attention to what he'd said. Joe had a strong Glaswegian accent and sometimes speaks quite quickly, so he just thought that he had not toned down the accent enough. However that was not the problem. Dave had been sitting next to really tall fellow named Rab. Just as Joe was getting started - he made a point of telling a joke to put everyone at ease - Rab had turned to Dave and said, "See, that's some tie the wee fella's wearing!"
I had quite quickly latched on to the story of Anna, the prophetess, in Luke's gospel. There may be just three verses but I have been really encouraged as I have meditated on them. It took a while to find a way in - my computer is littered with opening paragraphs that I abandoned along the way, and half a dozen verses of a poem that just wasn't lighting my fire. In the end I wrote about a statue in an art gallery. It wasn't a real statue, or a real art gallery, but by the end of the piece I could see it in my mind's eye. There are times when I lament that I can't do the artist thing.
Thinking about Anna - my neurons have just been firing and I will seriously have to sit down and put a proper piece together. One of the things that has stirred in me is the need to put myself in the place to hear from God. Scripture says that she practically lived in the Temple, worshipping day and night. The temple is where the presence of God was most clearly felt - it was the place that He had chosen to dwell. Physically she was in the right place. Through her worship, prayer and fasting, she had put herself in the right spiritual place - the right frame of mind to experience His presence.
Putting yourself in the right place to experience God - what a challenge! Day and night Anna was in the right place - it was inevitable that God would speak to her. What often impresses me is that some people make themselves irresistible to God by their manner and approach. God cannot but help be drawn to people who place themselves physically and spiritually in His path. I want to be like that. I want to be irresistible to God too - just like she was. I want to make the place where God is found to be my dwelling place.
I had quite quickly latched on to the story of Anna, the prophetess, in Luke's gospel. There may be just three verses but I have been really encouraged as I have meditated on them. It took a while to find a way in - my computer is littered with opening paragraphs that I abandoned along the way, and half a dozen verses of a poem that just wasn't lighting my fire. In the end I wrote about a statue in an art gallery. It wasn't a real statue, or a real art gallery, but by the end of the piece I could see it in my mind's eye. There are times when I lament that I can't do the artist thing.
Thinking about Anna - my neurons have just been firing and I will seriously have to sit down and put a proper piece together. One of the things that has stirred in me is the need to put myself in the place to hear from God. Scripture says that she practically lived in the Temple, worshipping day and night. The temple is where the presence of God was most clearly felt - it was the place that He had chosen to dwell. Physically she was in the right place. Through her worship, prayer and fasting, she had put herself in the right spiritual place - the right frame of mind to experience His presence.
Putting yourself in the right place to experience God - what a challenge! Day and night Anna was in the right place - it was inevitable that God would speak to her. What often impresses me is that some people make themselves irresistible to God by their manner and approach. God cannot but help be drawn to people who place themselves physically and spiritually in His path. I want to be like that. I want to be irresistible to God too - just like she was. I want to make the place where God is found to be my dwelling place.
Monday, May 01, 2006
The simplest solutions
I have been incredibly out of sorts for the last few days. I have had a fairly heavy cold but over and above that I have had a nagging headache! I rarely get headaches. I am one of those people that when I am unwell, absolutely nothing feels right - my hair does not feel comfortable on my head, my skin feels uncomfortable stretched over my bones and nothing feels like it should. I couldn't work it out but somehow my glasses felt wrong. The frame bits that you never notice seemed to be all that I could see and I kept having to tip the glasses down to the end of my nose to read anything!
I am really a bad case scenario person. I never think the most obvious things. My first thought was that it was a caffeine thing and somehow I wasn't drinking as much tea or coffee as I used to, so I overdosed on coffee and tea to make up for it. There was no improvement in the headaches. My second thought was that perhaps I needed to update the prescription on the lenses. This was not a good thing as they were not cheap! The third thing - absurd really, but remember I have a cold so I'm not thinking clearly - perhaps the shape of my head had changed and the glasses just no longer fitted!
Well this morning I had a proper squint at the glasses and discovered the problem - one of the small bits that balance the glasses on the nose that fallen off. The tiny screw had unscrewed itself and the little plastic thing had fallen off! The glasses were not sitting properly. No wonder my eyes were having a problem focussing on things. There is a proper term somewhere for a situation when you are given a number of possible solutions to a problem and it is the simplest one that is usually the most effective.
The lady at the shop fixed it for me and the headache is subsiding. Maybe I should have asked her if she could fix my cold too.
I am really a bad case scenario person. I never think the most obvious things. My first thought was that it was a caffeine thing and somehow I wasn't drinking as much tea or coffee as I used to, so I overdosed on coffee and tea to make up for it. There was no improvement in the headaches. My second thought was that perhaps I needed to update the prescription on the lenses. This was not a good thing as they were not cheap! The third thing - absurd really, but remember I have a cold so I'm not thinking clearly - perhaps the shape of my head had changed and the glasses just no longer fitted!
Well this morning I had a proper squint at the glasses and discovered the problem - one of the small bits that balance the glasses on the nose that fallen off. The tiny screw had unscrewed itself and the little plastic thing had fallen off! The glasses were not sitting properly. No wonder my eyes were having a problem focussing on things. There is a proper term somewhere for a situation when you are given a number of possible solutions to a problem and it is the simplest one that is usually the most effective.
The lady at the shop fixed it for me and the headache is subsiding. Maybe I should have asked her if she could fix my cold too.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Reclaiming Eden
"I've done what I set out to do
His image in them marred.
They leave this paradise of His
With lives forever scarred"
The glorious snake with glinting scales
Slid sinuously on the ground
A crafty reptile, sleek and sly
He moved without a sound
"I've soiled His love for human kind
I've wrecked His precious plan
Can Eden ever be reclaimed?
Oh No! It never can!"
Then fluttered down a peaceful bird
A pure and gentle dove
"You foolish snake, you cannot see
You're wrong about His love"
"Before this world came into being
He saw this tragic day
And in His mind conceived a plan
To wash this sin away"
"The woman's seed will crush your head.
A promise, firm and true
He will reclaim the lives you stained
Despite all you can do."
"His love bars them from Eden's tree
This tree - the Tree of Life
To eat this fruit their lives would be
Unending, full of strife."
"Some day they will return with joy
And take their rightful place
And gaze on Him with wondrous love
And know His awesome grace"
His image in them marred.
They leave this paradise of His
With lives forever scarred"
The glorious snake with glinting scales
Slid sinuously on the ground
A crafty reptile, sleek and sly
He moved without a sound
"I've soiled His love for human kind
I've wrecked His precious plan
Can Eden ever be reclaimed?
Oh No! It never can!"
Then fluttered down a peaceful bird
A pure and gentle dove
"You foolish snake, you cannot see
You're wrong about His love"
"Before this world came into being
He saw this tragic day
And in His mind conceived a plan
To wash this sin away"
"The woman's seed will crush your head.
A promise, firm and true
He will reclaim the lives you stained
Despite all you can do."
"His love bars them from Eden's tree
This tree - the Tree of Life
To eat this fruit their lives would be
Unending, full of strife."
"Some day they will return with joy
And take their rightful place
And gaze on Him with wondrous love
And know His awesome grace"
Monday, April 24, 2006
Mel, why are your hands so soft?
Those of us that are old enough can remember the old Fairy Liquid adverts that include the question, "Mummy, why are your hands so soft?" In this day of political correctness, they don't show them anymore just in case gender roles are stereotyped and Daddy doesn't help with the housework!
My hands are soft right now. For my birthday, Joe bought me a tub of hand cream from Lush. The product is called "Smitten" and contains almond oil. It is a very rich cream. The tub sits on the coffee table in the front room and I suppose that because it is not tucked away on a bathroom shelf it is getting used. I sit down after I have done the washing up, or finished doing something on the cleaning front, and the tub is right there. Sitting down to watch TV, the tub is right there, accessible. Using the stuff often during the day, has gradually built up a softness in my hands that wasn't there before.
This morning as I was rubbing in the usual blob of cream, the Holy Spirit brought to mind something that had been mentioned in church months ago. Shields in Roman times were made of leather and were protected by oil being rubbed into them. Without the oil, the leather dried out and cracks appeared. The protection the shield offered was no longer reliable.
As I was rubbing my hands together, I just imagined the Holy Spirit massaging my inner self. I imagined the Spirit rubbing in His joy, His peace, His kindness - those essential fruits of the Spirit into the very heart of me. I wanted it not to be just a surface wipe over, but a deep kneading - to get below the surface.
My hands are soft because I often dip into my tub of hand cream. A single application does not last forever! I don't think a once only application of the ministrations of the Holy Spirit will do that much lasting good either. His work needs to be repeated over and over again. I have got into a habit of rubbing the cream into my hands - how much more would the Holy Spirit like to get into a habit of rubbing in his oil of joy to prevent my heart drying out and cracks appearing?
Currently I am wading through writing third year reports, with first year reports waiting in the wings. It is a busy time of the school year. I want to make sure that I don't neglect time spent with God. Now is not the time for cracking up!
My hands are soft right now. For my birthday, Joe bought me a tub of hand cream from Lush. The product is called "Smitten" and contains almond oil. It is a very rich cream. The tub sits on the coffee table in the front room and I suppose that because it is not tucked away on a bathroom shelf it is getting used. I sit down after I have done the washing up, or finished doing something on the cleaning front, and the tub is right there. Sitting down to watch TV, the tub is right there, accessible. Using the stuff often during the day, has gradually built up a softness in my hands that wasn't there before.
This morning as I was rubbing in the usual blob of cream, the Holy Spirit brought to mind something that had been mentioned in church months ago. Shields in Roman times were made of leather and were protected by oil being rubbed into them. Without the oil, the leather dried out and cracks appeared. The protection the shield offered was no longer reliable.
As I was rubbing my hands together, I just imagined the Holy Spirit massaging my inner self. I imagined the Spirit rubbing in His joy, His peace, His kindness - those essential fruits of the Spirit into the very heart of me. I wanted it not to be just a surface wipe over, but a deep kneading - to get below the surface.
My hands are soft because I often dip into my tub of hand cream. A single application does not last forever! I don't think a once only application of the ministrations of the Holy Spirit will do that much lasting good either. His work needs to be repeated over and over again. I have got into a habit of rubbing the cream into my hands - how much more would the Holy Spirit like to get into a habit of rubbing in his oil of joy to prevent my heart drying out and cracks appearing?
Currently I am wading through writing third year reports, with first year reports waiting in the wings. It is a busy time of the school year. I want to make sure that I don't neglect time spent with God. Now is not the time for cracking up!
Saturday, April 22, 2006
With rings on her fingers...
The ring on my little finger is made from Venetian glass. It is not tiny or delicate or conservative, like the kind of jewellry that I would usually opt for, but loud and big and very purple. It began the day on the little finger of my right hand but got in the way of writing, so I moved it to the little finger of my left hand, next to the tiny, delicate and conservative engagement and wedding rings. I don't think it has become comfortable on my hand but I am determined to wear it!
You see, Joe bought it me on his recent trip away to Orkney and Shetland. He likes buying me interesting things that are not run-of-the-mill. I was thinking when he gave it to me, with an enthusiastic flourish of a little orange bag that it came in, and an eager expression on his face, that very often the things he buys me stay safely tucked away in the boxes and the bags in a drawer somewhere and very occasionally see the light of day.
If you are a giver of gifts, when you give someone something and then never see them wear it, or use it, it has got to be quite soul destroying. So I determined to wear the ring. It is purple so that does put a limit on when I can wear it. It is a lovely ring and a wonderfully rich colour. Joe bought it me so I wear it!
I can remember once going through a difficult spell I was just keeping my head above water and seriously feeling like I was coming close to drowning once or twice. During a quiet time with God I had the impression that God was saying that I was making life much more difficult than it needed to be. Imagine if someone had all the resources that you needed to make your way through the day and it was all there just laid on the table for you to freely take and use. At the end of the day - all that stuff is still there, untouched, unused and ignored. You sit there moaning about how difficult life is and yet you never touch the stuff that would not just sustain you through the day, but give you the upper hand. That is what I felt that God was trying to tell me - the He had given me all the resources I needed and yet I was trying to manufacture something in my own strength to help me through the day. The bottom line is that by turning my back on his resources I was insulting God.
Maybe that is why I hi-jacked the prayer meeting the other night - there was too much stuff laid on the table that was in danger of being ignored! God is gracious in giving us all that we need for life and godliness - but are we humble, or desperate, or hungry enough to take hold of it and use it?
You see, Joe bought it me on his recent trip away to Orkney and Shetland. He likes buying me interesting things that are not run-of-the-mill. I was thinking when he gave it to me, with an enthusiastic flourish of a little orange bag that it came in, and an eager expression on his face, that very often the things he buys me stay safely tucked away in the boxes and the bags in a drawer somewhere and very occasionally see the light of day.
If you are a giver of gifts, when you give someone something and then never see them wear it, or use it, it has got to be quite soul destroying. So I determined to wear the ring. It is purple so that does put a limit on when I can wear it. It is a lovely ring and a wonderfully rich colour. Joe bought it me so I wear it!
I can remember once going through a difficult spell I was just keeping my head above water and seriously feeling like I was coming close to drowning once or twice. During a quiet time with God I had the impression that God was saying that I was making life much more difficult than it needed to be. Imagine if someone had all the resources that you needed to make your way through the day and it was all there just laid on the table for you to freely take and use. At the end of the day - all that stuff is still there, untouched, unused and ignored. You sit there moaning about how difficult life is and yet you never touch the stuff that would not just sustain you through the day, but give you the upper hand. That is what I felt that God was trying to tell me - the He had given me all the resources I needed and yet I was trying to manufacture something in my own strength to help me through the day. The bottom line is that by turning my back on his resources I was insulting God.
Maybe that is why I hi-jacked the prayer meeting the other night - there was too much stuff laid on the table that was in danger of being ignored! God is gracious in giving us all that we need for life and godliness - but are we humble, or desperate, or hungry enough to take hold of it and use it?
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
His answer
I stand alone imprisoned here
My thoughts a downward spin
My fears in solitude grow large
And turmoil swirls within
A question asked, an answer sought
I wait as death steals near
I must know I fulfilled my task
My doubts must disappear
He is the chosen man of God
I saw the white dove's flight
And as the man shed water's cloak
On him it did alight
I heard the voice, a thunderous roar
That rent the heavens apart
"This is my son, the one I love"
So God reveals His heart
But was I wrong? Is He the man?
This humble gentle soul?
Can He restore this shattered world?
Make what was broken whole?
His words are wise, and full of power
He speaks and strongholds fall
Men cast aside their fishing nets
To hearken to His call
"The demons run, and blind men see
The crippled stand and walk
The deaf hear praise from lepers cleansed
And silent tongues? They talk"
His answer comes, and peace bursts forth
My task, His herald, done
My mission ends, my task complete
While His has just begun.
My thoughts a downward spin
My fears in solitude grow large
And turmoil swirls within
A question asked, an answer sought
I wait as death steals near
I must know I fulfilled my task
My doubts must disappear
He is the chosen man of God
I saw the white dove's flight
And as the man shed water's cloak
On him it did alight
I heard the voice, a thunderous roar
That rent the heavens apart
"This is my son, the one I love"
So God reveals His heart
But was I wrong? Is He the man?
This humble gentle soul?
Can He restore this shattered world?
Make what was broken whole?
His words are wise, and full of power
He speaks and strongholds fall
Men cast aside their fishing nets
To hearken to His call
"The demons run, and blind men see
The crippled stand and walk
The deaf hear praise from lepers cleansed
And silent tongues? They talk"
His answer comes, and peace bursts forth
My task, His herald, done
My mission ends, my task complete
While His has just begun.
Questions and answers
I have just been writing my entry for the FW weekly challenge. I have gone up a level in the competition - up to Level 4 called "Masters". It sounds entirely like a golf or snooker tournament to me.
The topic was "Fulfilment" and I had a number of ideas creeping around my head before I settled on something completely different.
The article was based on John the Baptist's question sent via his disciples to Jesus - "Are you the one who was to come, or should we wait for someone else?" It put me in mind of other great questions in the Bible - and why the answer matters. In no particular order:-
God's question to Adam - "Where are you?" To think that we can hide from God, or to think that there is ever a time when God doesn't know exactly where we are is to make a big mistake! I am sure that Adam didn't really know at all where he was - in the time it took to bite an apple the scenery and landscape changed. Everything familiar faded as fear swept in.
God's question to Cain - "Where is your brother Abel?" It is bad enough working out where we are in life - but God also expects us to know where other people are too! We don't get asked the whereabouts of strangers - but family is a different matter. God expects me to know where they are. He has made me accountable for aspects of their life and their walk with Jesus.
Jesus' question to a blind man - "What do you want me to do for you?" Sometimes you think it is kind of obvious what people want - but people are complicated. Jesus takes his cue from the blind man, knowing perfectly well how much he can transform the man's life in so many ways. Maybe the question would be better phrased - "What will you allow me to do for you?" Hmm...
Jesus' question to Simon Peter - "Do you love me?" Somewhere Jesus talks about a man who says that he did miracles in Jesus name, and that he cast out demons in Jesus name. Jesus went on to call that man a stranger who he did not know. It is not what we do that counts - or what we can't do that counts against us. It is why we do what we do - what motivates us should be our love for Jesus.
Jesus' question to God - "Why have you forsaken me?" Jesus spent his whole knowing the presence of God. There had not been one single moment up until then when Jesus did not experience God's intimacy. Jesus must have experienced something similar to Adam in that the relationship with God that he known all his life was no longer there. We know what it is like not to live our lives in God's presence, and sometimes we allow that intimacy to slip away. Because of Jesus, I can be sure of God's promise that he will never leave me, or abandon me.
King Xerxes to Queen Esther - "What is your request? Even up to half the kingdom, it will be given you." I have been reading the book of Esther over the last week or so. My imagination was captured by the idea of Esther clothed in royal robes, standing in at the entrance to the King's palace. As he extends the sceptre to her, he invites her into his presence. I am reminded that I too am clothed in royal robes, and that I have access into the throne room of my King, to make known the things on my heart.
The topic was "Fulfilment" and I had a number of ideas creeping around my head before I settled on something completely different.
The article was based on John the Baptist's question sent via his disciples to Jesus - "Are you the one who was to come, or should we wait for someone else?" It put me in mind of other great questions in the Bible - and why the answer matters. In no particular order:-
God's question to Adam - "Where are you?" To think that we can hide from God, or to think that there is ever a time when God doesn't know exactly where we are is to make a big mistake! I am sure that Adam didn't really know at all where he was - in the time it took to bite an apple the scenery and landscape changed. Everything familiar faded as fear swept in.
God's question to Cain - "Where is your brother Abel?" It is bad enough working out where we are in life - but God also expects us to know where other people are too! We don't get asked the whereabouts of strangers - but family is a different matter. God expects me to know where they are. He has made me accountable for aspects of their life and their walk with Jesus.
Jesus' question to a blind man - "What do you want me to do for you?" Sometimes you think it is kind of obvious what people want - but people are complicated. Jesus takes his cue from the blind man, knowing perfectly well how much he can transform the man's life in so many ways. Maybe the question would be better phrased - "What will you allow me to do for you?" Hmm...
Jesus' question to Simon Peter - "Do you love me?" Somewhere Jesus talks about a man who says that he did miracles in Jesus name, and that he cast out demons in Jesus name. Jesus went on to call that man a stranger who he did not know. It is not what we do that counts - or what we can't do that counts against us. It is why we do what we do - what motivates us should be our love for Jesus.
Jesus' question to God - "Why have you forsaken me?" Jesus spent his whole knowing the presence of God. There had not been one single moment up until then when Jesus did not experience God's intimacy. Jesus must have experienced something similar to Adam in that the relationship with God that he known all his life was no longer there. We know what it is like not to live our lives in God's presence, and sometimes we allow that intimacy to slip away. Because of Jesus, I can be sure of God's promise that he will never leave me, or abandon me.
King Xerxes to Queen Esther - "What is your request? Even up to half the kingdom, it will be given you." I have been reading the book of Esther over the last week or so. My imagination was captured by the idea of Esther clothed in royal robes, standing in at the entrance to the King's palace. As he extends the sceptre to her, he invites her into his presence. I am reminded that I too am clothed in royal robes, and that I have access into the throne room of my King, to make known the things on my heart.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Love engraved in my life
I was out exploring the other end of the Caledonian Canal, where it leaks out into Loch Ness. The outdoors just called to me yesterday, so I collected a bag full of breadcrumbs and headed off to Dochgarich where there are a couple of locks on the canal and a path to amble along.
The canal runs parallel to the river for quite a while. On my left was the canal, very tranquil and quiet, with the occasional boat motoring up or down it. On my right, a mere few yards away was the river - very noisy, and lively, with swirls and eddies. I was amazed to discover that the canal was flowing in the opposite direction to the river - I checked it out with Pooh-sticks! Which one would I prefer to be out in a canoe on? The canal would probably be the safest, except when motor boats came along. The river, infinitely more challenging I would imagine, and more interesting. Actually, I think I would prefer not to be out in a canoe at all!
There were lots of interesting trees along the side of the canal. I don't know varieties of trees, but some had multiple trunks that wound round each other, very think and very twisted and probably very old. Most of them had been marked in some way, not by the passage of nature, but by the penknife of man! There were weathered dates and initials but one trunk bore the words - "JESUS LOVES YOU, CHRIST DIED FOR SINNERS"
Is vandalism always vandalism no matter what has been written? I remembered a time when I was a young Christian reading the graffiti written on the back of a toilet door. Some of it was witty, but most comprised of who loved who and who "waz ere" and when. I thought about adding my own contribution along the lines of "Jesus loves you", but then vandalism is vandalism, damage to someone else's property is still damage not matter what your intentions are. I put my pen away.
The words on the tree reminded me of something I knew to be true. Being reminded is a good thing. For someone who did not know Jesus - would the words have meant anything? I think people learn about the love of God through the love his people show. Christ would want to engrave each of my words and each of my actions with a message of his love. In each encounter I have with people they need to be able to read the love of God written into my life.
The canal runs parallel to the river for quite a while. On my left was the canal, very tranquil and quiet, with the occasional boat motoring up or down it. On my right, a mere few yards away was the river - very noisy, and lively, with swirls and eddies. I was amazed to discover that the canal was flowing in the opposite direction to the river - I checked it out with Pooh-sticks! Which one would I prefer to be out in a canoe on? The canal would probably be the safest, except when motor boats came along. The river, infinitely more challenging I would imagine, and more interesting. Actually, I think I would prefer not to be out in a canoe at all!
There were lots of interesting trees along the side of the canal. I don't know varieties of trees, but some had multiple trunks that wound round each other, very think and very twisted and probably very old. Most of them had been marked in some way, not by the passage of nature, but by the penknife of man! There were weathered dates and initials but one trunk bore the words - "JESUS LOVES YOU, CHRIST DIED FOR SINNERS"
Is vandalism always vandalism no matter what has been written? I remembered a time when I was a young Christian reading the graffiti written on the back of a toilet door. Some of it was witty, but most comprised of who loved who and who "waz ere" and when. I thought about adding my own contribution along the lines of "Jesus loves you", but then vandalism is vandalism, damage to someone else's property is still damage not matter what your intentions are. I put my pen away.
The words on the tree reminded me of something I knew to be true. Being reminded is a good thing. For someone who did not know Jesus - would the words have meant anything? I think people learn about the love of God through the love his people show. Christ would want to engrave each of my words and each of my actions with a message of his love. In each encounter I have with people they need to be able to read the love of God written into my life.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
A last walk with Spike
On Friday we had the sad news that Spikey Boy had passed away. It was very sad. He was not a young dog anyway, but recently he had developed a heart condition that lead to him being put down. I know that he was in a dog's home in Ilfracombe and we just sponsored him, but yesterday I decided to imagine that I was taking him for a last walk along the Caledonian Canal - I was there for real, but Spike was there in my imagination!
It was a lovely morning, and last Sunday one of the things spoken about in my breaking free was about the need to get out and enjoy nature. I don't want people to speak into my life and not put it into practice, but it has rained throughout the week. Yesterday was a bright and dry morning. Because of the wet days beforehand, it was quite muddy, with lots of puddles for Spike to trail through.
There were no other dogs, and very few people. One couple we met were armed with binoculars trained on a huddle of seagulls squatting on an empty pontoon in the marina. Seagulls are just seagulls to me, and I don't differentiate between the varieties - guillemots and such. The other couple were canal workers. It must have been low tide as they were able to wade ankle deep at the edge of the canal picking up rubbish and putting it in black bags. They were chatting as they paddled along.
We saw two swans. The one piece of information that always surfaces about swans comes from watching a film with Drew Barrymore in it. Swans mate for life. They remain faithful to one another throughout their life span. These were very elegant swans. They always remind me of sailing boats with full white sails. Your ducks and things are like the motor boats chugging along, but swans - they sail.
One of the saddest things we saw, on the bank of the canal where the workers had not yet reached, on a stone step leading down to the water, was a single empty syringe. I guess that Inverness has its fair share of drug takers, but it seemed sad to me that the quiet and the beauty of the place was not enough to restore someone's inner peace. The Beauly Firth was stretching our in front, with shifting ripples of water, all against a backdrop of hill and snow capped mountains. If nature was enough to restore peace in people's lives, there would be no need for the cross of Jesus.
It was such a quiet spot. On the road to Beauly, on one side of the firth you could see and hear cars and lorries trundling along. On the other side, the far distant bank of North Kessock, you could catch glimpses of light reflecting off windscreens of cars along the road, but right where Spike and I stood, at the entrance to the canal, everything was still. It just brought back to me that in the hurry and scurry of life, we need a quiet and tranquil place - a quiet place. For me that time is about being with God and allowing him to put back together what the world would tear apart.
A place of peace
Where struggles cease
Where striving ends
And rest descends
To float, to sail
To breathe, inhale
Your Presence sweet
I'm made complete
It was a lovely morning, and last Sunday one of the things spoken about in my breaking free was about the need to get out and enjoy nature. I don't want people to speak into my life and not put it into practice, but it has rained throughout the week. Yesterday was a bright and dry morning. Because of the wet days beforehand, it was quite muddy, with lots of puddles for Spike to trail through.
There were no other dogs, and very few people. One couple we met were armed with binoculars trained on a huddle of seagulls squatting on an empty pontoon in the marina. Seagulls are just seagulls to me, and I don't differentiate between the varieties - guillemots and such. The other couple were canal workers. It must have been low tide as they were able to wade ankle deep at the edge of the canal picking up rubbish and putting it in black bags. They were chatting as they paddled along.
We saw two swans. The one piece of information that always surfaces about swans comes from watching a film with Drew Barrymore in it. Swans mate for life. They remain faithful to one another throughout their life span. These were very elegant swans. They always remind me of sailing boats with full white sails. Your ducks and things are like the motor boats chugging along, but swans - they sail.
One of the saddest things we saw, on the bank of the canal where the workers had not yet reached, on a stone step leading down to the water, was a single empty syringe. I guess that Inverness has its fair share of drug takers, but it seemed sad to me that the quiet and the beauty of the place was not enough to restore someone's inner peace. The Beauly Firth was stretching our in front, with shifting ripples of water, all against a backdrop of hill and snow capped mountains. If nature was enough to restore peace in people's lives, there would be no need for the cross of Jesus.
It was such a quiet spot. On the road to Beauly, on one side of the firth you could see and hear cars and lorries trundling along. On the other side, the far distant bank of North Kessock, you could catch glimpses of light reflecting off windscreens of cars along the road, but right where Spike and I stood, at the entrance to the canal, everything was still. It just brought back to me that in the hurry and scurry of life, we need a quiet and tranquil place - a quiet place. For me that time is about being with God and allowing him to put back together what the world would tear apart.
A place of peace
Where struggles cease
Where striving ends
And rest descends
To float, to sail
To breathe, inhale
Your Presence sweet
I'm made complete
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
"Follow me - again"
I came across something that I think is pretty mind blowing yesterday. On Saturday, Joe and I took Shona, Patrick and Shannon to see some friends of ours. Archie and Sandra manage a croft, or small farm, just outside Dingwall, some fifteen to twenty miles from Inverness. They keep sheep, and the last few weeks have been filled with helping the ewes give birth to lambs. There are one or two orphan lambs and one or two ewes that have difficulty feeding their offspring, so the family are helping the smaller lambs by feeding them with bottles of milk. We thought that Shannon and Patrick would enjoy feeding lambs.
The phrase "Feed my lambs" really struck a chord with me, and I took out my bible to read the account of Jesus' resurrection appearance to his disciples when they had gone fishing, caught nothing and followed his instructions to let the nets down on the other side of the boat. Later on in the passage Jesus and Peter have a conversation about love, and Jesus prophesies about Peter's death. Right at the end of all of that are the words, "Then he said to him (Peter), "Follow me!"" (John 21:19)
This was not the first time that Jesus had challenged Peter to follow him. Three years ago, in pretty much the same place, "As Jesus walked beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. "Come, follow me," Jesus said, "and I will make you fishers of men." At once they left their nets and followed him." (Mark 1:16-18)
Peter had no idea what he was letting himself in for. He had no idea what the next three years or so would hold - seeing people healed, demons cast out, the dead raised. It was new, and exciting, and the high was higher than any catch of fish from his BC life. It was an adventure.
The second "Follow me!" challenge comes three years later. It comes after the greatest disappointment, not with Jesus, but with himself. For all the miraculous signs that Peter had witnessed, what stood out in his mind was his betrayal. He had boldly proclaimed that even if the other disciples ran away, he would stay the course. He didn't. What Peter can offer Jesus now is not sacrificial love, but the love of a friend - a watered down version of what Jesus is asking for. Jesus accepts it, knowing that the friendship will deepen and the commitment will be to the death one day.
So when Jesus says, "Follow me!" it is like he is saying, "The first time I asked you to follow me, you didn't know what was going to happen. You thought you could climb mountains, and that you couldn't fail. Now you know just how weak you really are, but I still want you on my team. In fact I want you more than ever, because you know just how much you have to lean on me. I am entrusting my lambs, my precious ones, into your care."
We all have those first "Follow me!" challenges, and like Peter we end up face down in the mud, tripping up over our own pride and confidence. We feel that we have written ourselves out of Jesus' plans by our failure. But…there is another "Follow me!" challenge that Jesus gives us. For those of us who have been a Christian for a long time, we have a history of mistakes and misunderstandings and downright rebellions, and we have an experience of the hard times that sometimes takes the shine off our Christian life. Jesus repeats his challenge - "Follow me" - He still wants us on His team, more than ever, because we know how much we need to lean on Him.
The phrase "Feed my lambs" really struck a chord with me, and I took out my bible to read the account of Jesus' resurrection appearance to his disciples when they had gone fishing, caught nothing and followed his instructions to let the nets down on the other side of the boat. Later on in the passage Jesus and Peter have a conversation about love, and Jesus prophesies about Peter's death. Right at the end of all of that are the words, "Then he said to him (Peter), "Follow me!"" (John 21:19)
This was not the first time that Jesus had challenged Peter to follow him. Three years ago, in pretty much the same place, "As Jesus walked beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. "Come, follow me," Jesus said, "and I will make you fishers of men." At once they left their nets and followed him." (Mark 1:16-18)
Peter had no idea what he was letting himself in for. He had no idea what the next three years or so would hold - seeing people healed, demons cast out, the dead raised. It was new, and exciting, and the high was higher than any catch of fish from his BC life. It was an adventure.
The second "Follow me!" challenge comes three years later. It comes after the greatest disappointment, not with Jesus, but with himself. For all the miraculous signs that Peter had witnessed, what stood out in his mind was his betrayal. He had boldly proclaimed that even if the other disciples ran away, he would stay the course. He didn't. What Peter can offer Jesus now is not sacrificial love, but the love of a friend - a watered down version of what Jesus is asking for. Jesus accepts it, knowing that the friendship will deepen and the commitment will be to the death one day.
So when Jesus says, "Follow me!" it is like he is saying, "The first time I asked you to follow me, you didn't know what was going to happen. You thought you could climb mountains, and that you couldn't fail. Now you know just how weak you really are, but I still want you on my team. In fact I want you more than ever, because you know just how much you have to lean on me. I am entrusting my lambs, my precious ones, into your care."
We all have those first "Follow me!" challenges, and like Peter we end up face down in the mud, tripping up over our own pride and confidence. We feel that we have written ourselves out of Jesus' plans by our failure. But…there is another "Follow me!" challenge that Jesus gives us. For those of us who have been a Christian for a long time, we have a history of mistakes and misunderstandings and downright rebellions, and we have an experience of the hard times that sometimes takes the shine off our Christian life. Jesus repeats his challenge - "Follow me" - He still wants us on His team, more than ever, because we know how much we need to lean on Him.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Praying with the big boys
We have experienced a wonderful weekend. Friends and leaders from the Wrexham Church travelled up to have fellowship with us. We have strong links with the church there, and Tony Howson provides us with apostolic covering.
They were with us all day Sunday - for the morning meeting, the fellowship lunch and in the evening for a prayer meeting. The teaching in the morning meeting was really challenging, about Moses and the Israelites crossing the Red Sea. Doing things the way God wants, at just the right time is so much more effective than coming up with our own strategies. The fellowship lunch was also good - I played endless games of Connect 4 but only managed to connect once! I was too concerned plotting five moves ahead to notice my opponent just slotting them unchallenged and unhindered by me! There is a mind set that I don't possess!
It was the prayer meeting that really set me alight! I have always thought that corporate prayer meetings are important, but very often, although we are all in the same place, the way we pray tends to be very individual. The prayers are like self contained episodes in a TV series - you don't really need the episodes that come before and after to set the scene or work out what is going on. We are listening and agreeing to what has gone before, but last night they introduced an element of honing and refining and sharpening.
Imagine prayers as arrows. Sometimes what is let loose is a very blunt arrow and it doesn't really penetrate the target. It is a nice enough prayer but something is missing. It is not to do with the words, but to do with the Spirit or the heart or something. Or imagine the bow. If the bow is not strung tight enough, the arrow isn't given the surge of speed to perhaps even reach the target. Sometimes what is needed is someone to recognise the blunt arrow and sharpen it, or see the loosely strung bow and tighten it. You don't bring down strongholds with blunt arrows and loosely strung bows.
Last night was different. It wasn't just firing off as many arrows as we could muster in the time allotted. It was scary prayer - the kind that the devil really runs from!
We began by reminding ourselves that there was a difference between prayers of the flesh and prayers of the spirit. Only the prayers of the spirit bring life. One of the reasons that so many prayers go unanswered is because we are not praying the heart of God, but our own hearts, which sadly do not always beat together! Our pastor had a picture of an egg and the bird inside the egg breaking out. There is a right time for the chick to emerge. It has to reach the point where it is strong enough and developed enough to stand up to life on the outside of the egg. I am not sure where the egg metaphor was going. I don't always listen as well as I ought. What came to mind was the constriction of the egg - the space is just too small and the chick feels it is suffocating and is desperate to get out. Maybe as the shell gets thinner, there are aromas from the outside world that filter through that are too enticing! I just happened to mention about the discomfort the chick felt, and the desperate need to break out. I am sure that it’s a case of "If you stay in here, you are going to die!"
Well, the theme of breaking out prevailed. When it came to confessing areas where we needed to break out - someone else revealed what was on the tip of my tongue as regards how I have felt hemmed in and bound up. My workplace is challenging to say the least. It seems that with some classes they draw the lines through the things that they say and the way that they behave, that push me against walls and into corners where I act defensively. Suddenly I feel exposed and rush to protect myself any way possible. Earlier in the week God had been reminding me about putting on armour, and I had said to Him that I shouldn't have to, that it shouldn't be a battlefield - and that is how things have felt.
It was just like this man, Paul, had read my mind. There was an attempt to reason the whole thing out - if he knows that I am a teacher, he probably knows what kids are like these days…it's bound to be tough. But that really wasn't cutting it - I tried desperately to keep my thoughts under control. The thought of someone knowing what I was thinking was very unsettling.
I had a picture which I kept to myself of a tool box. The workman had particular tools for particular jobs. Each tool fits perfectly in his hand because it has been carefully chosen. When it comes to needing a certain tool, it might not have been used for a while and has got a little bit rusty, so he carefully cleans it and sharpens it ready for the job. It is not broken, but if it is, he fixes it. He doesn't just replace it, because this tool is irreplaceable. There is just not another one like it.
I am speaking faith to myself here in that God has got a specific job in mind. I am the tool that he wants to use to get the job done. He has rooted around the toolbox to get me, notices that I am a little stained around the handle and not as sharp as I could be, so he has sharpened me in readiness! That is how I feel - sharp and held perfectly in the hand of God ready for the task!
You know, in some ways I have been in this place before. It is not a spiritual high, where circumstances will be a pin prick and let all the air out so I get deflated. It is the place of revival. My appetite, my hunger, my feeding not just on the word of God but on vibrant fellowship with the Spirit is what will sustain it.
They were with us all day Sunday - for the morning meeting, the fellowship lunch and in the evening for a prayer meeting. The teaching in the morning meeting was really challenging, about Moses and the Israelites crossing the Red Sea. Doing things the way God wants, at just the right time is so much more effective than coming up with our own strategies. The fellowship lunch was also good - I played endless games of Connect 4 but only managed to connect once! I was too concerned plotting five moves ahead to notice my opponent just slotting them unchallenged and unhindered by me! There is a mind set that I don't possess!
It was the prayer meeting that really set me alight! I have always thought that corporate prayer meetings are important, but very often, although we are all in the same place, the way we pray tends to be very individual. The prayers are like self contained episodes in a TV series - you don't really need the episodes that come before and after to set the scene or work out what is going on. We are listening and agreeing to what has gone before, but last night they introduced an element of honing and refining and sharpening.
Imagine prayers as arrows. Sometimes what is let loose is a very blunt arrow and it doesn't really penetrate the target. It is a nice enough prayer but something is missing. It is not to do with the words, but to do with the Spirit or the heart or something. Or imagine the bow. If the bow is not strung tight enough, the arrow isn't given the surge of speed to perhaps even reach the target. Sometimes what is needed is someone to recognise the blunt arrow and sharpen it, or see the loosely strung bow and tighten it. You don't bring down strongholds with blunt arrows and loosely strung bows.
Last night was different. It wasn't just firing off as many arrows as we could muster in the time allotted. It was scary prayer - the kind that the devil really runs from!
We began by reminding ourselves that there was a difference between prayers of the flesh and prayers of the spirit. Only the prayers of the spirit bring life. One of the reasons that so many prayers go unanswered is because we are not praying the heart of God, but our own hearts, which sadly do not always beat together! Our pastor had a picture of an egg and the bird inside the egg breaking out. There is a right time for the chick to emerge. It has to reach the point where it is strong enough and developed enough to stand up to life on the outside of the egg. I am not sure where the egg metaphor was going. I don't always listen as well as I ought. What came to mind was the constriction of the egg - the space is just too small and the chick feels it is suffocating and is desperate to get out. Maybe as the shell gets thinner, there are aromas from the outside world that filter through that are too enticing! I just happened to mention about the discomfort the chick felt, and the desperate need to break out. I am sure that it’s a case of "If you stay in here, you are going to die!"
Well, the theme of breaking out prevailed. When it came to confessing areas where we needed to break out - someone else revealed what was on the tip of my tongue as regards how I have felt hemmed in and bound up. My workplace is challenging to say the least. It seems that with some classes they draw the lines through the things that they say and the way that they behave, that push me against walls and into corners where I act defensively. Suddenly I feel exposed and rush to protect myself any way possible. Earlier in the week God had been reminding me about putting on armour, and I had said to Him that I shouldn't have to, that it shouldn't be a battlefield - and that is how things have felt.
It was just like this man, Paul, had read my mind. There was an attempt to reason the whole thing out - if he knows that I am a teacher, he probably knows what kids are like these days…it's bound to be tough. But that really wasn't cutting it - I tried desperately to keep my thoughts under control. The thought of someone knowing what I was thinking was very unsettling.
I had a picture which I kept to myself of a tool box. The workman had particular tools for particular jobs. Each tool fits perfectly in his hand because it has been carefully chosen. When it comes to needing a certain tool, it might not have been used for a while and has got a little bit rusty, so he carefully cleans it and sharpens it ready for the job. It is not broken, but if it is, he fixes it. He doesn't just replace it, because this tool is irreplaceable. There is just not another one like it.
I am speaking faith to myself here in that God has got a specific job in mind. I am the tool that he wants to use to get the job done. He has rooted around the toolbox to get me, notices that I am a little stained around the handle and not as sharp as I could be, so he has sharpened me in readiness! That is how I feel - sharp and held perfectly in the hand of God ready for the task!
You know, in some ways I have been in this place before. It is not a spiritual high, where circumstances will be a pin prick and let all the air out so I get deflated. It is the place of revival. My appetite, my hunger, my feeding not just on the word of God but on vibrant fellowship with the Spirit is what will sustain it.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Waking thoughts
"Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light."
(Mary Elizabeth Byrne, 1905)
My first thought this morning was not a pleasant one. It was about how much I was not looking forward to the day in school. Perhaps it was not so much the thought as the sinking feeling I had in my stomach. It has been a long while since I have felt this way.
It was brought on by a combination of things. The percentage pass rate for our third year classes was set quite low in our departmental meeting, but even so, I think I may been struggling to make it. I was fretting. Last week I had a very difficult encounter with one particular third year group - things just got really blown out of proportion and it was making me anxious about our next encounter.
A friend at work asked me what I did about my sinking feeling and whether it was still with me. My comment was extremely trite and casual and not at all accurate. I said that I just "slapped myself around a bit and told myself to get on with it and stop grizzling." I missed a golden opportunity to witness. There was no slapping around. I just knelt before God and poured out my concerns.
I want my waking thought to be about the goodness of God. That doesn't happen by accident. I can't be thinking about the goodness of God if my mind rewinding and reviewing the bad encounters of the day. There is a need to settle things and close things down, to allow God to bring something to an end, where I can't seem to do it alone. Only when I am still can I hear God's voice. If I refuse to be still, then I miss out on his affirmation and encouragement.
After spending more time with God when I came home I began to write a poem;-
Too often I forget, Lord
That I belong to You
That in this cold and empty world
I'm merely passing through
Too often I forget, Lord
That You direct my way
The world with all its hollow words
Just shouldn't have a say
Too often I forget, Lord
To gaze upon Your face
To walk in Your anointing
To stand, clothed in Your grace.
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light."
(Mary Elizabeth Byrne, 1905)
My first thought this morning was not a pleasant one. It was about how much I was not looking forward to the day in school. Perhaps it was not so much the thought as the sinking feeling I had in my stomach. It has been a long while since I have felt this way.
It was brought on by a combination of things. The percentage pass rate for our third year classes was set quite low in our departmental meeting, but even so, I think I may been struggling to make it. I was fretting. Last week I had a very difficult encounter with one particular third year group - things just got really blown out of proportion and it was making me anxious about our next encounter.
A friend at work asked me what I did about my sinking feeling and whether it was still with me. My comment was extremely trite and casual and not at all accurate. I said that I just "slapped myself around a bit and told myself to get on with it and stop grizzling." I missed a golden opportunity to witness. There was no slapping around. I just knelt before God and poured out my concerns.
I want my waking thought to be about the goodness of God. That doesn't happen by accident. I can't be thinking about the goodness of God if my mind rewinding and reviewing the bad encounters of the day. There is a need to settle things and close things down, to allow God to bring something to an end, where I can't seem to do it alone. Only when I am still can I hear God's voice. If I refuse to be still, then I miss out on his affirmation and encouragement.
After spending more time with God when I came home I began to write a poem;-
Too often I forget, Lord
That I belong to You
That in this cold and empty world
I'm merely passing through
Too often I forget, Lord
That You direct my way
The world with all its hollow words
Just shouldn't have a say
Too often I forget, Lord
To gaze upon Your face
To walk in Your anointing
To stand, clothed in Your grace.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
The wise and foolish builders
The dictionary defines wise as " possessing or showing the ability to make good judgments, based on a deep understanding and experience of life."
It also defines foolish as "unwise, ridiculous or lacking in judgment."
A paraphrase of Matthew 7:24-27, based on my activities last night might read along these lines:-
"Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who purchased a flat pack office from MFI. The screws were many and varied; the pieces of wood were large and cumbersome but well labelled; the instructions were, I hate to say it, quite clear and easy to follow. The bookcase and the filing cabinet went together without significant problems because the man asked for help. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man - err, woman - who tried to put the desk together alone. The screws were many and varied; the pieces of wood were large and cumbersome but well labelled; the instructions were, I hate to say it again, quite clear and easy to follow. (On the very first page of the instructions was a clear symbol - two people standing side by side - just how clear do you need to be?) The evening wore on, the sweat poured, the patience waned and the desk fell with a great crash, causing damage to various holes, screws and the laminate finish."
My husband - every optimistic - believes that the pastor of our church - a man with an engineering degree - will make everything better!
I never said that my sweet spot was anything remotely practical! I was fed up with not having a desk to write on. It was all there in bits and I thought I could do it! It wasn't big and unwieldy like the bookcase - or so I thought. I have a degree! I can read instructions! I know how to use a screwdriver! They were very serious about that little symbol with the two people standing side by side - I just didn't realise how serious!
I too can be every optimistic. I however believe that the pastor of our church - a man with an engineering degree - might not be able to make everything better in this particular case!
It also defines foolish as "unwise, ridiculous or lacking in judgment."
A paraphrase of Matthew 7:24-27, based on my activities last night might read along these lines:-
"Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who purchased a flat pack office from MFI. The screws were many and varied; the pieces of wood were large and cumbersome but well labelled; the instructions were, I hate to say it, quite clear and easy to follow. The bookcase and the filing cabinet went together without significant problems because the man asked for help. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man - err, woman - who tried to put the desk together alone. The screws were many and varied; the pieces of wood were large and cumbersome but well labelled; the instructions were, I hate to say it again, quite clear and easy to follow. (On the very first page of the instructions was a clear symbol - two people standing side by side - just how clear do you need to be?) The evening wore on, the sweat poured, the patience waned and the desk fell with a great crash, causing damage to various holes, screws and the laminate finish."
My husband - every optimistic - believes that the pastor of our church - a man with an engineering degree - will make everything better!
I never said that my sweet spot was anything remotely practical! I was fed up with not having a desk to write on. It was all there in bits and I thought I could do it! It wasn't big and unwieldy like the bookcase - or so I thought. I have a degree! I can read instructions! I know how to use a screwdriver! They were very serious about that little symbol with the two people standing side by side - I just didn't realise how serious!
I too can be every optimistic. I however believe that the pastor of our church - a man with an engineering degree - might not be able to make everything better in this particular case!
Monday, March 13, 2006
Behind a locked door
Having been a member of Faithwriters,com for quite a while now, I have notched up a number of entries in their weekly challenges. Just lately, if I don't have the inspiration, I just give the week a miss. I thought this was one of those weeks. The topic was "Lock" and I was mulling it over in my mind. The whole week has been rather busy - I am determined to prepare properly for the third year reports coming out shortly. Sunday was packed full with the church meeting, the fellowship lunch afterwards and a chance to catch up with friends we hadn't seen for a while. By Sunday evening I had nothing to submit.
At lunchtime today, I checked out the Faithwriter's website. They have set the number of entries at 180 as anything more than that is hard for the judges to read in the week. There were still a few spots left to fill, and it was the last challenge of the year's quarter so I donned on my thinking cap and came up with a poem. I made the deadline with about 20 minutes to go. There wasn't really time to tweak - but here is a more polished up version. I think it is still in a state of flux. There are one or two lines that still need to be tightened up - but I like it.
Behind a Locked Door
We hide behind a door that’s locked
Our hearts pursued by fear
Is this our fate - to die like Him?
The One we held so dear?
Our ears attuned to catch the sound
Of steps upon the stair
Our enemy with sharpened sword
Is surely standing there.
All at once the room is filled
With white and radiant light
Our Master stands before us now
A most amazing sight
“Be still, fear not,” His gentle words
He speaks as we bow low
“My peace I give to you my friends”
And joy begins to grow
His hands, his side, to us he shows
The wounds He did endure
He draws us close, and asks we touch
To know Him and be sure
How could this be, that He is here?
This man that we adored
The empty tomb, it was no lie
To us He’s been restored
And yet not man, but God divine
Who else could cheat the grave?
He took our debts and shameful deeds
And all our sins forgave
Faith explodes and life anew
In empty hearts is poured
Fear no longer ties us down
Love-loosed spirits soared
We stand beside an open door
Our lips a message bear:-
That resurrection power is ours
Our transformed lives declare
At lunchtime today, I checked out the Faithwriter's website. They have set the number of entries at 180 as anything more than that is hard for the judges to read in the week. There were still a few spots left to fill, and it was the last challenge of the year's quarter so I donned on my thinking cap and came up with a poem. I made the deadline with about 20 minutes to go. There wasn't really time to tweak - but here is a more polished up version. I think it is still in a state of flux. There are one or two lines that still need to be tightened up - but I like it.
Behind a Locked Door
We hide behind a door that’s locked
Our hearts pursued by fear
Is this our fate - to die like Him?
The One we held so dear?
Our ears attuned to catch the sound
Of steps upon the stair
Our enemy with sharpened sword
Is surely standing there.
All at once the room is filled
With white and radiant light
Our Master stands before us now
A most amazing sight
“Be still, fear not,” His gentle words
He speaks as we bow low
“My peace I give to you my friends”
And joy begins to grow
His hands, his side, to us he shows
The wounds He did endure
He draws us close, and asks we touch
To know Him and be sure
How could this be, that He is here?
This man that we adored
The empty tomb, it was no lie
To us He’s been restored
And yet not man, but God divine
Who else could cheat the grave?
He took our debts and shameful deeds
And all our sins forgave
Faith explodes and life anew
In empty hearts is poured
Fear no longer ties us down
Love-loosed spirits soared
We stand beside an open door
Our lips a message bear:-
That resurrection power is ours
Our transformed lives declare
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Happy Endings
Joe and I went to the cinema earlier this week. George Clooney won a best actor Oscar for his role on the film "Syriana". It was billed as a political thriller and was exactly that. It was about the big companies securing oil interests in the Middle East. They had the power and the connections to carve things up they way they chose without regard for the needs of the local people. The king had two sons - sounds like the beginning of a parable. One son was very determined to bring progress to the people. He was a good egg. The other son was in it for as much money and profit as he could get. Which one was going to be the next king? Which one does the big company want as the next king? How are they going to protect their interests? Guess which one gets blown up? It was not a happy ending.
Muslims were portrayed not as off-their-heads-fundamentalists, but people pushed to the limits. They were on the receiving end of so much abuse from the oil companies that I gained an inkling and a sympathy for the two Muslim suicide bombers who were driven to ram a boat loaded with explosives into the oil terminal. I don't think the teaching to love your enemy or turn the other cheek features in the Qur'an. It was not a happy ending at all.
The big company doing all the manipulating (American of course, but I don't suppose Britain has clean hands it can boast of in the real world) was under investigation but made a deal with the investigators to drop it all in the lap of someone fairly high up in the pecking order, but the top dogs got away with it. It went beyond "not a happy ending" to "evil wins over good".
I can remember watching the film "Braveheart" many years as part of an audience of Scots. There was cheering and clamping and foot stamping as the English got their just deserts in one of the battle scenes and even though Mel Gibson was gutted at the end, you never felt that he lost. OK, technically it wasn't a happy ending for him, but you never felt that he was defeated. At the end, one could sense that if a group of those film goers had met an Englishman on the way home from the cinema, the outlook would not have been pretty. I felt that way about Americans the other night, although I recognise that it's only some of them!
This whole idea of carving up the world to suit me and my needs, and carving up people's lives in the process is just plain wicked! I know that they will not necessarily have their own happy endings when they face God and His judgement seat - but what about NOW?
Muslims were portrayed not as off-their-heads-fundamentalists, but people pushed to the limits. They were on the receiving end of so much abuse from the oil companies that I gained an inkling and a sympathy for the two Muslim suicide bombers who were driven to ram a boat loaded with explosives into the oil terminal. I don't think the teaching to love your enemy or turn the other cheek features in the Qur'an. It was not a happy ending at all.
The big company doing all the manipulating (American of course, but I don't suppose Britain has clean hands it can boast of in the real world) was under investigation but made a deal with the investigators to drop it all in the lap of someone fairly high up in the pecking order, but the top dogs got away with it. It went beyond "not a happy ending" to "evil wins over good".
I can remember watching the film "Braveheart" many years as part of an audience of Scots. There was cheering and clamping and foot stamping as the English got their just deserts in one of the battle scenes and even though Mel Gibson was gutted at the end, you never felt that he lost. OK, technically it wasn't a happy ending for him, but you never felt that he was defeated. At the end, one could sense that if a group of those film goers had met an Englishman on the way home from the cinema, the outlook would not have been pretty. I felt that way about Americans the other night, although I recognise that it's only some of them!
This whole idea of carving up the world to suit me and my needs, and carving up people's lives in the process is just plain wicked! I know that they will not necessarily have their own happy endings when they face God and His judgement seat - but what about NOW?
Saturday, February 25, 2006
The family of God
I had a dream last night. Actually I had a number of dreams and the one just before I woke up featured a red blob that swallowed people up - but we will leave that one aside!
In my dream I had three children - girl and two boys. The house was a wreck because Joe was doing some DIY. He had taken out the shower cabinet in the bathroom. The wee girl was the youngest in the family and every time she came into a room where I was my heart just filled with love. I just delighted in her presence - she didn't have to do anything - but just be there for this overwhelming love to flow through me. I don't remember much about my oldest son, but the youngest son - I had a parent's evening to attend. He was seven. I was extremely angry with his teacher. At seven years of age she had already decided what he was capable of doing and what he couldn't do- she had labelled him, boxed him in and limited the things he was allowed to do. I can remember being so angry that I couldn't speak. My tongue was stuck in my mouth. The teacher bristled in front of me and said, "If you have anything to say to me, then just say it." I remember my tone of voice being very soft and of very little volume, but incredibly frightening. I don't remember the words I said, but just knew that it came for the heart of a mother who was standing up for her child.
In real life, I don't have any children. All through the dream, I knew it was a dream. There was a voice inside telling me all along, "But, Mel, you don't have any children."
For some people not having children is a choice. Maybe a married couple look at the state of the world and think that it is wrong to bring yet another person into a world where the resources are already stretched, and the world is not a pleasant place to be with threats of terror and war.
For Joe and I, that wasn't the case. We married fairly late in life - our mid thirties - discovered that natural means of child birth were not possible- endured a few years of fertility treatment - and a few miscarriages. The treatment seemed to become more difficult each month, and the emotional rollercoaster we found ourselves on seemed always to come close to derailing. I wanted to be a parent so much. I had so many people praying for me. One couple went up to the front of a big church meeting that Joe and I didn't get to, to be prayed for on our behalf. People brought words of prophecy that one day I would hold a child in my arms, and that they could see Joe pushing a baby around in a pram. I look back from where I am now and it was heart-breaking. In the middle of it all I held down a job, led worship and participated in the everyday life.
At the age of 40 I decided to draw a line and stop treatment. I don't believe that any woman had a right to motherhood. It happens to most, but not to all - but there comes a time when it all becomes selfish. I didn't want a child to have to grow up to have her parents collect their pension before they had time to stretch their wings. Joe and I are young at heart, and loving and just as much as those things are essential, I think the generation gap can get too wide.
For a number of years afterwards I just lived with the anticipation that God would do it anyway - that He would intervene anyway and that all those words and prophecies would come to pass.
People's hearts are not made to ride that kind of rollercoaster of feelings, and there just came a time when another line was drawn. To feel that there is no fruitfulness in your life apart from having children and grandchildren is to severely limit what God has in store for us. God opened up a different creative avenue for me - writing.
When I woke up, I mourned the loss of my "dream" family. There is no daughter who walks into a room and my heart thrills. I don't have a son to defend against a narrow minded teacher. All those things that parents do with their children - making sure that they brush their teeth, reading the same bedtime story for the millionth time, parent's evenings - I have none of that. Sometimes when I am standing in a shop queue, and listening to a mother shout at her child for some small and insignificant crime - I want to tell her what a privilege she has, that she shouldn't abuse. I don't say anything though.
Where is all this heading? On Sunday, after church we had a bring-and-share pot luck lunch at our house. Most times I don't need to worry whether I can find enough forks or mugs that are not chipped to go around! I was surrounded by generations of people. Two girls sat on my sofa in the front room and wove scoubies into elaborate patterns while a handful of men worked together to put a flat-packed bookcase together and it was so good.
I guess that being without children, I worry one day that I will be alone. There are no generations of family to "visit grannie". If Sunday did anything for me, it was to show me a picture of my future. I have a wonderful church family that surrounds me and involves me the vibrant life of the church. That is something to be nurtured and protected.
In my dream I had three children - girl and two boys. The house was a wreck because Joe was doing some DIY. He had taken out the shower cabinet in the bathroom. The wee girl was the youngest in the family and every time she came into a room where I was my heart just filled with love. I just delighted in her presence - she didn't have to do anything - but just be there for this overwhelming love to flow through me. I don't remember much about my oldest son, but the youngest son - I had a parent's evening to attend. He was seven. I was extremely angry with his teacher. At seven years of age she had already decided what he was capable of doing and what he couldn't do- she had labelled him, boxed him in and limited the things he was allowed to do. I can remember being so angry that I couldn't speak. My tongue was stuck in my mouth. The teacher bristled in front of me and said, "If you have anything to say to me, then just say it." I remember my tone of voice being very soft and of very little volume, but incredibly frightening. I don't remember the words I said, but just knew that it came for the heart of a mother who was standing up for her child.
In real life, I don't have any children. All through the dream, I knew it was a dream. There was a voice inside telling me all along, "But, Mel, you don't have any children."
For some people not having children is a choice. Maybe a married couple look at the state of the world and think that it is wrong to bring yet another person into a world where the resources are already stretched, and the world is not a pleasant place to be with threats of terror and war.
For Joe and I, that wasn't the case. We married fairly late in life - our mid thirties - discovered that natural means of child birth were not possible- endured a few years of fertility treatment - and a few miscarriages. The treatment seemed to become more difficult each month, and the emotional rollercoaster we found ourselves on seemed always to come close to derailing. I wanted to be a parent so much. I had so many people praying for me. One couple went up to the front of a big church meeting that Joe and I didn't get to, to be prayed for on our behalf. People brought words of prophecy that one day I would hold a child in my arms, and that they could see Joe pushing a baby around in a pram. I look back from where I am now and it was heart-breaking. In the middle of it all I held down a job, led worship and participated in the everyday life.
At the age of 40 I decided to draw a line and stop treatment. I don't believe that any woman had a right to motherhood. It happens to most, but not to all - but there comes a time when it all becomes selfish. I didn't want a child to have to grow up to have her parents collect their pension before they had time to stretch their wings. Joe and I are young at heart, and loving and just as much as those things are essential, I think the generation gap can get too wide.
For a number of years afterwards I just lived with the anticipation that God would do it anyway - that He would intervene anyway and that all those words and prophecies would come to pass.
People's hearts are not made to ride that kind of rollercoaster of feelings, and there just came a time when another line was drawn. To feel that there is no fruitfulness in your life apart from having children and grandchildren is to severely limit what God has in store for us. God opened up a different creative avenue for me - writing.
When I woke up, I mourned the loss of my "dream" family. There is no daughter who walks into a room and my heart thrills. I don't have a son to defend against a narrow minded teacher. All those things that parents do with their children - making sure that they brush their teeth, reading the same bedtime story for the millionth time, parent's evenings - I have none of that. Sometimes when I am standing in a shop queue, and listening to a mother shout at her child for some small and insignificant crime - I want to tell her what a privilege she has, that she shouldn't abuse. I don't say anything though.
Where is all this heading? On Sunday, after church we had a bring-and-share pot luck lunch at our house. Most times I don't need to worry whether I can find enough forks or mugs that are not chipped to go around! I was surrounded by generations of people. Two girls sat on my sofa in the front room and wove scoubies into elaborate patterns while a handful of men worked together to put a flat-packed bookcase together and it was so good.
I guess that being without children, I worry one day that I will be alone. There are no generations of family to "visit grannie". If Sunday did anything for me, it was to show me a picture of my future. I have a wonderful church family that surrounds me and involves me the vibrant life of the church. That is something to be nurtured and protected.
Friday, February 17, 2006
The smell of ink
I really thought the publishing world had caught up with me today. Every writer gets exited when they read an email from someone who introduces themselves as "publishers of fiction and nonfiction works by new and established authors today" and go on to say, "Recently, I had the pleasure of reading the poetry that you have had published in the United States." I think they may be referring to my profile of poems and articles at Faithwriters, although other internet sites also have some of my poems. I have also made it into one or two anthologies published by Faithwriters. They were asking permission to publish a poem in anthology called "Songs of Honour". The letter went on to tell me about the quality of the paper, the size and style of the font and the fact that I had a page all to myself in the anthology and there was room for some author's notes about the poem.
The book itself would be over 200 pages, hard backed, and cost me £26.18. I have had offers like this before and in one book, which I did not buy, there is one of my poems called "The Fly" submitted many years ago.
Some of my friends from Faithwriters tend to keep their distance from these kinds of offers. I think it is partly due to not knowing what other kinds of poems will appear in the anthology. When it comes to the Faithwriters anthologies, I have read many of the other articles and poems on line. I want to be associated with the high quality, not just of the standards of grammar, but the inspirational subject matter.
I am not sure I have the same confidence with other publishers. Do they really think my work is that good or do they have a few pages they would like to fill, and the chance of another customer buying the book? They don't want to pay me for my poem and I don't receive any royalties.
But then I also think about the chance to witness. Many of my poems are a response of faith. That someone might read the poem, in amongst a whole lot of other kinds of poems, and be encouraged, or read my author's notes and be built up would be a good thing. I don't loose copyright of the poem, and it costs me nothing.
Can offers like this do more harm than good? The jury is out at the moment!
The book itself would be over 200 pages, hard backed, and cost me £26.18. I have had offers like this before and in one book, which I did not buy, there is one of my poems called "The Fly" submitted many years ago.
Some of my friends from Faithwriters tend to keep their distance from these kinds of offers. I think it is partly due to not knowing what other kinds of poems will appear in the anthology. When it comes to the Faithwriters anthologies, I have read many of the other articles and poems on line. I want to be associated with the high quality, not just of the standards of grammar, but the inspirational subject matter.
I am not sure I have the same confidence with other publishers. Do they really think my work is that good or do they have a few pages they would like to fill, and the chance of another customer buying the book? They don't want to pay me for my poem and I don't receive any royalties.
But then I also think about the chance to witness. Many of my poems are a response of faith. That someone might read the poem, in amongst a whole lot of other kinds of poems, and be encouraged, or read my author's notes and be built up would be a good thing. I don't loose copyright of the poem, and it costs me nothing.
Can offers like this do more harm than good? The jury is out at the moment!
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Four times a day
There used to be a time when I attended four meetings on a Sunday! I think that is a bit over the top for anyone!
It was when I lived in Cyprus. I had moved there in 1982 and stayed for five years. I moved because of a promise of a job teaching the junior department of an English speaking church based school in Limmasol. It turned out that there was not an opening for me teaching juniors, so I joined the senior school staff teaching RE, English and Drama.
The school was funded by the Brethren Church, and as a member of staff I was expected to attend services at the Brethren Church on Sunday - morning and evening. My first year there was quite a struggle. They took the command in the Bible for women to be silent in church quite literally, and I found that quite difficult! I probably didn't want to say anything anyway, but being forbidden to speak made me want to talk! It is like the old "Keep off the Grass" signs - had the sign never been there, the idea of stepping on the grass might not have occurred, but knowing that you couldn't do it, made you want to!
Limmasol was a base for the head quarters of a number of missionary organisations working throughout the Middle East, one of which was Operation Mobilisation. One of the OM families was a member of the Brethren Church, but they also had a meeting later on in the morning at about eleven. It was billed as a time of fellowship and worship. They invited me along to join in.
Remembering those meetings, I think they were times that came closest to the way Paul describes worship meetings in 1 Corinthians. Everyone brought something - a song, a testimony, sometimes a prophecy or a word. Everyone just contributed. The numbers grew steadily and there was a tangible presence of God that I felt was lacking from the Brethren Church. Not being able to contribute anything there, and having the freedom to bring words of encouragement at the OM meetings - it was chalk and cheese. My heart thrived on these meetings.
We got to the stage where we suddenly needed to decide just what exactly we were. If we were a church then we should be a church, and become committed to each other. But if we weren't a church, then perhaps we aught to stop pretending we were, and channel our gifts into the "real" churches that we were members of. I suppose it is like having an affair - not that I have had one. Our own churches should have been meeting our spiritual needs. The fact that we were getting our needs met outside of our own churches felt like we were committing spiritual adultery. Maybe it was that we recognised that did not have a spiritual covering of an apostle, and that no one was willing to take on the role of being an elder or a pastor. The meetings stopped.
My heart was still inclined towards something free and less restricting than the Brethren Church. What was inside was leaking out in the brethren meetings, and although I was supposed to be silent, I couldn't be. There was no place to safely let off steam.
After the evening meeting at the Brethren Church, I began to go along to another meeting. A charismatic church had started up in one of the down town hotels, and I began to attend regularly.
After a few months I was convicted that I was tearing myself in two, that I couldn't have a foot in both camps and that I needed to decide one way or the other. Either I needed to be fully committed to the Brethren Church or to the charismatic church, but not both. It was not an easy decision. Breaking with the Brethren Church also meant that I gave up my teaching post at the school - but that is what I chose to do.
I don't know how Christians can grow the way that God wants if they are not planted in a local church body. My 100% commitment to a specific group of God's children is part and parcel of being a Christian. I don't exist as a Christian just with a network of Christians from various churches, but not joined to one local church body. I don't think it is biblical. That does not men to say that I don't have friends from other churches, who speak into my life because I do.
Church is bigger that the denominations we insist on boxing ourselves into. I think we need to be more flexible and allow movement across the borders that separate us. I sometimes wish that we could borrow a couple of musicians from another church when ours go away for the weekend.
It was when I lived in Cyprus. I had moved there in 1982 and stayed for five years. I moved because of a promise of a job teaching the junior department of an English speaking church based school in Limmasol. It turned out that there was not an opening for me teaching juniors, so I joined the senior school staff teaching RE, English and Drama.
The school was funded by the Brethren Church, and as a member of staff I was expected to attend services at the Brethren Church on Sunday - morning and evening. My first year there was quite a struggle. They took the command in the Bible for women to be silent in church quite literally, and I found that quite difficult! I probably didn't want to say anything anyway, but being forbidden to speak made me want to talk! It is like the old "Keep off the Grass" signs - had the sign never been there, the idea of stepping on the grass might not have occurred, but knowing that you couldn't do it, made you want to!
Limmasol was a base for the head quarters of a number of missionary organisations working throughout the Middle East, one of which was Operation Mobilisation. One of the OM families was a member of the Brethren Church, but they also had a meeting later on in the morning at about eleven. It was billed as a time of fellowship and worship. They invited me along to join in.
Remembering those meetings, I think they were times that came closest to the way Paul describes worship meetings in 1 Corinthians. Everyone brought something - a song, a testimony, sometimes a prophecy or a word. Everyone just contributed. The numbers grew steadily and there was a tangible presence of God that I felt was lacking from the Brethren Church. Not being able to contribute anything there, and having the freedom to bring words of encouragement at the OM meetings - it was chalk and cheese. My heart thrived on these meetings.
We got to the stage where we suddenly needed to decide just what exactly we were. If we were a church then we should be a church, and become committed to each other. But if we weren't a church, then perhaps we aught to stop pretending we were, and channel our gifts into the "real" churches that we were members of. I suppose it is like having an affair - not that I have had one. Our own churches should have been meeting our spiritual needs. The fact that we were getting our needs met outside of our own churches felt like we were committing spiritual adultery. Maybe it was that we recognised that did not have a spiritual covering of an apostle, and that no one was willing to take on the role of being an elder or a pastor. The meetings stopped.
My heart was still inclined towards something free and less restricting than the Brethren Church. What was inside was leaking out in the brethren meetings, and although I was supposed to be silent, I couldn't be. There was no place to safely let off steam.
After the evening meeting at the Brethren Church, I began to go along to another meeting. A charismatic church had started up in one of the down town hotels, and I began to attend regularly.
After a few months I was convicted that I was tearing myself in two, that I couldn't have a foot in both camps and that I needed to decide one way or the other. Either I needed to be fully committed to the Brethren Church or to the charismatic church, but not both. It was not an easy decision. Breaking with the Brethren Church also meant that I gave up my teaching post at the school - but that is what I chose to do.
I don't know how Christians can grow the way that God wants if they are not planted in a local church body. My 100% commitment to a specific group of God's children is part and parcel of being a Christian. I don't exist as a Christian just with a network of Christians from various churches, but not joined to one local church body. I don't think it is biblical. That does not men to say that I don't have friends from other churches, who speak into my life because I do.
Church is bigger that the denominations we insist on boxing ourselves into. I think we need to be more flexible and allow movement across the borders that separate us. I sometimes wish that we could borrow a couple of musicians from another church when ours go away for the weekend.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Spikey Boy
This article is commissioned! My husband didn't exactly ask me to write it, so I suppose it is not commissioned exactly, but we had a conversation yesterday when he came home from work. The previous night he had been reading through my blog and expects something to appear in the blog!
Joe is a dog man. Some people are cat people. Joe's sister Margaret had a cat called Snoops and he would probably rate as the only cat in the entire world that Joe liked. He was a nice cat. But Joe's heart is for dogs. Throughout much of his life, his family have always had a dog. Laddie dog 1, Laddie dog 2, Laddie dog 3 - if you like the name - why change it? I think there was also a Lady dog in there somewhere. We had a cat, a tabby cat called Tabitha and a series of dogs, budgies and hamsters. The most memorable budgie was called Marti, (alias Houdini), who marvelled us with his cage escaping exploits. However, I think there is one day when he rued escaping. He landed on the carpet, feathers bustling with pride that he had yet eluded us when, from underneath the sofa, that cat jumped on him and bit his head off - in full view of the family!
I digress. This is not about any of the Laddie dogs, the cat or the headless budgie. With Joe and I both being in full time work, we just don't have time for a dog. It is Joe's ambition in life to talk me into agreeing that he takes early retirement, so while I am at school whipping my third year rebels into some semblance of order, he and the dog (which we will then be able to have), will meander slowly down to the paper shop and along to the betting shop to place a small wager on a horse in the 2.50 race at Cheltenham. Sounds good?
Well, knowing that I will hold out on the early retirement thing, when a man knocked at my door looking for dog sponsorship, I was all picked up ears and wagging tail. The charity is called "Dog's Trust" and our dog who lives in Ilfracombe is called Spike (or Spikey Boy to his friends). He is a terrier. We don't know much about his background only that his owners were so bad to him that he can't live with people anymore.
Spikey Boy sends us letters - hey, who else has a dog that can write?? His latest missive was a valentine card, telling us that he loved us very much for sponsoring him. He also told us a little about what he gets up to in the day - playing with a ball on the beach!
Joe is over the moon with the card. He took it into work yesterday to show the girls. Joe is one of the nicest people ever and is liked by everyone. (Mostly everyone - his work with the union in fighting for the little people against the big bosses is not always looked on with fondness by some members of the management team). Well, the girls in his department liked the valentine card so much that they wouldn't let him bring it home.
This is where my small-mindedness comes into play. I am aware that this might seem petty and ungracious, but I think I have a point to make here. Spikey Boy's sponsorship is coming out of my bank account. It seems to me that if they - the girls - want to hold on to Spikey Boy's card then they ought to contribute to his sponsorship. It just doesn't seem fair that they get to keep the card in the office, where I don't go very often, and I am the one paying the sponsorship. Yes, Mel, written down like that, in black and white, that really does sound petty and ungracious!
I do feel very strongly about this! I also feel incredibly foolish too - when you compare it to issues like third world poverty and global warming, it is a very small issue!
The picture above is of Spikey Boy, copyright belongs to the Dog's Trust.
Friday, February 03, 2006
The Prodigal's Father Explained
I am aware that I just slapped up a poem without any explanation of where it came from. I am the author and I wrote it on Wednesday. I am due to preach this Sunday and the theme is about the Father heart of God.
My father died of cancer when I was quite young, so for me the whole theme of "father" was just somewhat outside my experience. My views of fathers came from watching "Little House on the Prairie" and "The Waltons". I recognised that the fathers portrayed were not real, though for some people that might be exactly what they experienced - but for me, fathers were people who were just not there. I wouldn't say that I felt abandoned or anything. I don't feel "angry that my dad died and left me" - it was something that happened and my mum stepped in to be both parents. "Dads" to me were irrelevant. I had a mother who was wonderful to me, who provided for my needs, assured me of her love - all those things that dads also do.
I often wonder what my dad would have thought about how I turned out. Would he be proud that I am a teacher? Would he be proud of my marriage to Joe? Would he be pleased that I left the Roman Catholic Church and headed in a different spiritual journey? Would I be the same person that I am now had he been around to exert an influence?
The only idea I had when I thought about God's father heart was the prodigal son. I have read and re-read, and meditated on the story in Luke. In times past I have preached the story from the point of view of the younger son (the whole repentance thing) and from the point of view of the older son (the whole non-judgemental and acceptance thing), but at the end of day, the story is about the father (the whole love thing!).
I am trying to get to grips with the generosity of the father, and the cost of his letting go. I am not a parent, but I recognise that we want to protect out children from the harm that life inflicts. To step away and allow the child to fall has got to be hard. The father is wise enough to know that some things can only be learned from the pigsty. Too often we want to cushion the fall - but in doing so we deny our child the chance to "come to his senses". God is no different.
What the father had to trust was that all the learning that had gone on in the home, before the child left, would be there for that moment.
So that is where the poem came from!
My father died of cancer when I was quite young, so for me the whole theme of "father" was just somewhat outside my experience. My views of fathers came from watching "Little House on the Prairie" and "The Waltons". I recognised that the fathers portrayed were not real, though for some people that might be exactly what they experienced - but for me, fathers were people who were just not there. I wouldn't say that I felt abandoned or anything. I don't feel "angry that my dad died and left me" - it was something that happened and my mum stepped in to be both parents. "Dads" to me were irrelevant. I had a mother who was wonderful to me, who provided for my needs, assured me of her love - all those things that dads also do.
I often wonder what my dad would have thought about how I turned out. Would he be proud that I am a teacher? Would he be proud of my marriage to Joe? Would he be pleased that I left the Roman Catholic Church and headed in a different spiritual journey? Would I be the same person that I am now had he been around to exert an influence?
The only idea I had when I thought about God's father heart was the prodigal son. I have read and re-read, and meditated on the story in Luke. In times past I have preached the story from the point of view of the younger son (the whole repentance thing) and from the point of view of the older son (the whole non-judgemental and acceptance thing), but at the end of day, the story is about the father (the whole love thing!).
I am trying to get to grips with the generosity of the father, and the cost of his letting go. I am not a parent, but I recognise that we want to protect out children from the harm that life inflicts. To step away and allow the child to fall has got to be hard. The father is wise enough to know that some things can only be learned from the pigsty. Too often we want to cushion the fall - but in doing so we deny our child the chance to "come to his senses". God is no different.
What the father had to trust was that all the learning that had gone on in the home, before the child left, would be there for that moment.
So that is where the poem came from!
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
The Prodigal's Father
My son, I watched you walk away
My heart began to grieve
I prayed that you might stay with me
But then I let you leave
I knew the path that you would take
And where that road would end
I knew the hurt, the emptiness
You couldn't comprehend
The world so bright and colourful
With sweetest siren song
Lured you with beguiling words
It's cloying fragrance strong
I cannot catch you as you fall
Or wipe away your tears
I cannot smooth the path ahead
Or soothe your troubled fears
Your freedom bids I leave alone
And watch the scene play out
The downward spiral to the end
That's sure to come about
I trust the word I've birthed in you
I trust the love I've shown
To bring you to your senses soon
And light your pathway home
For now, dear son, I search the road
I watch so patiently
I know one day that I will see
You coming home to me
My heart began to grieve
I prayed that you might stay with me
But then I let you leave
I knew the path that you would take
And where that road would end
I knew the hurt, the emptiness
You couldn't comprehend
The world so bright and colourful
With sweetest siren song
Lured you with beguiling words
It's cloying fragrance strong
I cannot catch you as you fall
Or wipe away your tears
I cannot smooth the path ahead
Or soothe your troubled fears
Your freedom bids I leave alone
And watch the scene play out
The downward spiral to the end
That's sure to come about
I trust the word I've birthed in you
I trust the love I've shown
To bring you to your senses soon
And light your pathway home
For now, dear son, I search the road
I watch so patiently
I know one day that I will see
You coming home to me
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