The last days are here

In the last days,

they will tremble

in awe

of the Lord

and of his

goodness.

Hosea 3:5b.

Broken and Wet

The past few weeks have been wet ones here in Australia. Rain has been falling on dry, hard earth. Rivers have been unable to carry the amount of water being delivered into them. There have been flash floods, 'inland' tsunamis, rivers rising inexorably. Evacuations and tense waits have been followed by mud-filled floors, stained walls, waterlogged houses. Some floods came so quickly that there are people still unaccounted for.

all these images are of the Queensland floods from smh.com.au

Thousands of homes have been damaged. The clean-up will take months, maybe longer for some. And as our news is filled with progress updates, stories also come of floods and landslides in Brazil. And we look for the stories of hope to calm our fear.

Tsunamis, earthquakes, floods and fear. "Is it the end of the world?", says a friend.

Some are desperate to know, but I'm thankful that's not in my hands to decide.

I find myself, rather, seeing the flimsy fragility of our existence. We build, we gather things, we make homes. We rest our hearts, our hopes and our selves in the midst of things. In an instant they can be washed away or left destroyed and useless.

But on 24 hour coverage of floods, where people who have lost everything are interviewed, their words are fascinating. They speak of people who help, of others who've suffered more, or of determination to live on. They do not eulogise fancy lounge suites or wide screen TVs, or boxes of things. They courageously admit where their real hope lies - in relationships, or communities or in their own fierce-held survival. They are their own victory trophy over disaster.

We know what really matters, and sometimes disasters clarify our view to see it. The one thing we gloss over, though is God. Disasters are 'acts of God', and blame can lie heavy with him. We forget the fact that he is with us in the disaster, too. He sits in precarious places waiting for rescuers to arrive. He sifts through mounds of destruction and helps clean and rebuild. He cleans mud away, he delivers needed food, he listens to traumatic stories. He is present for the clean up and restoration.

Our lives, our achievements, our possessions are like grass, blown too easily away.

But God stands firm - with us, amongst us. His love in destruction brings impossible hope. That despite our transience and fragility, we will live on.

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,

though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.

Psalm 46:1-3

Joining the One Word at a Time Blog Carnival - Broken

I laughed.

via tastefully offensive (and 22 words)

also via tastefully offensive

Nurturing Fruit

wild plum

I found them unexpectedly. Three among newly planted daisies, one in the shadow of an overblown rose. One hardy, with a gnarled stem, defiantly at attention in the chook scratched yard. I remembered that chooks hate nightshade plants.

I walked back down the concrete steps, reached up to unhook a trowel, and I rescued them. Rehabilitated them in the vegetable patch. The best tomatoes I've ever grown, and eaten, have begun as upstart orphans. The perfect marriage of persistent stock and neglectful gardening (my art form).

So I find the fruit I want in unexpected places. Perseverence has sprung up next to laziness, and I am determined in my efforts at avoidance and my ability to ignore. I search out my spade and fork, and I dig perseverence clear. I gently lift it over the fence. Cradle it in a shallow hole between patience and faithfulness, and heap the soil around it. I try to remember to water and feed it. I pray. I need to pray it will grow.

I notice a yearning for growth is in the shade of a particularly bitter crop of words. Gaudy flowers of criticism that I pick and use to decorate my table. It's small but I hollow it out, too. A tiny yearning, desire to be more. Transplanted, it may lend a touch of inspiration to my wilting goodness.

There's a long way to go to make a fruitful garden. A lot of rain and sunshine need to fall. Garden with me please.

linked with emily




 

and ann 

Commit

from the Sydney Morning Herald Leunig Calendar 2010.

2011 is here. And New Year blog posts abound. I am fascinated by the idea of naming the year or having a word for the year. I started this blog because I wanted to listen better, and writing about that has prompted me to stop and think more. So my 'one word' has been listen. And I don't want to lose that focus because I know that I've got lots more to discover.

I have discovered that God wants me to listen to people. I have even dared to say that it is part of my life's purpose. That really listening to people is a gift to them, a respect that I can offer. And when life is tough, I know that having someone listen to me, really listen to me, can be a service - like a dinner delivered to my door, or having someone mind my kids when I am completely overwhelmed.

But I would like to think about a word for 2011. It will be a way to connect with other people doing the same thing, and a way to focus my thinking.

So 2011 is going to be my year for completing - I have some work training requirements and an exam to do this year. But complete sounds a little self-satisfied.

2011 is going to be my year for wearing clothes and shoes I buy and put in the cupboard for nice occasions. It is time to stop waiting for the right time to get them out. I'm going to wear them whenever I can. But stop waiting is two words.

2011 is going to be my 40th year, but forty...no. No.

After considering what 2011 will be for me, I need to commit to do what needs to be done. It will not always be what I like to do, in fact sometimes I may need to postpone the things I like to do, in order to enjoy them better later.

Because I know that I'm a dabbler. I like to start things and find it harder to finish them. I see the pattern in my life of doing too many things and not doing them well. Just getting by.

Commit.

Commit myself to work hard. Commit myself to love and serve my family. Commit myself to finish what needs to be done. Commit myself to let Jesus live in me, to let his spirit shape me and refine me.

New Year - at the right time

(from stock.xchng)

Do you ever watch QI? There are lots of questions with seemingly obvious answers but the responses you think are true turn out to be wrong.

Last night's episode asked how many senses we have. The obvious answer is five. But no. As well as the usual  five, we also have a sense of balance, a sense of direction, a sense of body position, and a sense of time. Some people list up to 21.

For the past few months I have been hearing those familiar words...
"It's almost Christmas. Can you believe it? The year has gone so fast!"
Does our sense of time really tell us things are going too fast?
Are we fighting time?

Look at medicine - we are trying to defy disease and decay. Look at cosmetic surgery/procedures - we are trying to defy age. In our work, we try to do more in less time, bowing to the gods Efficiency and Outcomes. In our families we value 'quality time' and hate to 'waste' time. On birthdays, we focus on advancing age as a sign of decrepitude rather than a sign of wisdom. We gingerly celebrate the passing of time but nervously laugh that it may just 'catch up with us' as we run from it in fright.

But time goes at the pace God set it to go. Time passes because the world is on its way through a journey from its careful formation, to its eventual transformation. Each day has night because our bodies need restoration and relief from daily strains. Each year has seasons so that we and the earth can be renewed and refreshed. The marking of time allows us to be anchored, yet travelling, in our walk through life.

It's easy to wish that time would stand still for us to savour goodness or fit more worthy stuff in. And then sometimes the trials of life drive us to pray for the acceleration of time. We long for the shortest, fastest time of suffering for those we love, and it is natural that we do.

But let's stop fighting so desperately to beat time. It is actually our friend, a companion guiding us to the fulfillment of our lives. It is not our master, berating us for not getting enough done. Or our enemy, forcing us to measure our inadequacies. Time rescues us from being trapped in our mistakes and failures, drawing us to ultimate redemption. It gives us now to experience mercy and grace, today. It gives us hope, for tomorrow is new, fresh, unblemished. Time delivers us into a new day.

I want to try to accept my experience of  the pace of time. Not wish it away, not claw it back to me as I resist its flow. The new year will arrive at a propitious time, at just the right time. It will bring fresh hope and opportunity. The daily renewing I need to survive.

Christmas joy

It seems like December is a race. I just need to keep pushing, to make it over the finishing line. Marked by December 25. I am only relieved once Christmas Day is here, and I am starting to relax now that it's the 27th.

This feels like a slightly sacrilegious thing to say. I love the concept of Christmas, but I don't really like the reality. I love the reason for Christmas, the story of Christmas. But I dislike doing Christmas, being squashed by Christmas, and losing real life in Christmas.

Why do all my Christmas-defining activities feel burdensome? Shopping for presents for people who don't really need anything. Cooking for a meal where there's always too much food. Co-ordinating family activities or meals with people who I'm not sure want to spend time with me.

The have-tos and should-dos seem powerful in my pre-Christmas blur. And I realise that the world's crazy Christmas drowns the stillness of the first Christmas. Noisy advertising, crowded shops, the pressure of how beautiful Christmas should be. I realise that sometimes I would like to escape the pressure of 'having a good Christmas'.

My struggle is exemplified in Christmas tree decorations. I would love to have a lush, 7 foot, colour-coordinated, tastefully decorated extravaganza adorning my lounge room. Early in December, my children excitedly ask when we can set up for Christmas. Grumpily, I make them wait until the first weekend in December. (Imagine the inconvenience of decorating mid-week!) So we get out the boxes stored on the garage top shelf. We put together the 4 foot tree (perfect to put up on the coffee table, out of reach of toddlers). And they love getting out the many and varied decorations, and arranging them on the tree - as only kids can.

And I have to stop myself from arranging them better, from making it look better. I want to control Christmas so much, make it so much about me, that I want to re-arrange the decorations. So they can look, well, more beautifully arranged.

I am enticed by the expectations of what Christmas should be - the beautiful, tasteful, well-planned Christmas - to forget the values that birthed Chistmas. Humility, generosity, self-giving love.

I read it and remember, because I need to remind myself...
So this is Christmas.

"The Word became human and made his home among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness.And we have seen his glory, the glory of the Father’s one and only Son."

(John 1:14)

And this truth makes the four-foot lop-sided tree the best one in our street, it makes the impromptu meal with friends a feast, it brings peace in the mad rush to the finish-line. It makes Christmas a joyous glimpse of our God - glorious grace and truth.