Calling

 

But each day the Lord pours his unfailing love upon me,
and through each night I sing his songs,
praying to God who gives me life. Psalm 42:8

Sometimes I mourn the thoughts and inspirations of yesterday. Regret their transient fragility. Will them back to consciousness.
Time casually evaporates them and new ideas take their place. The regret lingers. Is it the lost opportunity of impressing you?

Other times, I imagine the future. Count down the interim, until I'm there. Where exactly?

I could think myself the most important person in the world. Lots of us do.

Stop. Time to be here and now.

Sit with the jittery man, who averts his gaze. Cravings for a drink shame him. Listen to him.
 
Sit with the fragile woman who can't tell her ex that he's no longer welcome to invade her house. She can't remember ever saying no to anyone, and her shoulders carry that. Listen. Don't forget.

Sit with the proud man who needs to have the last word. Don't resent him for it. Maybe just figure out a gentle way to guide the conversation to a place of common ground. There's something to learn from him, too.

Respect. Respect, genuineness and authenticity. That's a tall order and I want to gradually wear them into my skin. Practice them.

Perhaps this is how a call gets lived out.

Each day the Lord pours his unfailing love upon me,
and through each night I sing his songs,
praying to God who gives me life.
 

Waiting

I was seven months pregnant when I realised it. The waiting wasn't just for bones to get long enough, a heart to beat reliably or lungs to blossom into countless sacs of diffusing membrane. I needed the waiting too.

The unsettled pregnancy sleep prepared me for waking to someone else's need. And the inability to be relaxed and comfortable in my skin for nine months made me appreciate returning to being me. Somehow, the waiting is how I gradually prepared myself to care for a tiny being. For the emotional reality of it.

Plenty of people are happy to remind me that change is hard. Sometimes marathon hard. Sometimes hit by a semi-trailer hard. And waiting is a way to build up for the struggle of change. A long slow drink before we walk out onto an unknown path.

I have been waiting.

And waiting is not a passive time. I wait with my family amidst the squabbles and raucous laughter, the scrapes and the home reader books. I stopped blogging for a few weeks and didn't miss it. Waiting was busy and absorbing. I am getting ready. Unsure for what.

Caught in that moment of knowing preparation is necessary, but bewildered about how to get ready.

I started to think about the group of faithful waiting in Jerusalem. They didn't really know what for. Just told to wait for the gift. They had no idea what would happen to them.

“Do not leave Jerusalem until the Father sends you the gift he promised, as I told you before. John baptized with water, but in just a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.” Acts 1:4-5.

They could not have anticipated seeing the flames of God, hearing the wind of his presence and the flurry of talk amongst them. How could they have understood what Jesus meant about a counsellor coming to be with them? That God himself would come amongst them in a new way. A reinvention of the tabernacle.

The pastor reminds me that this is the one festival that the early church celebrated - Pentecost.

 As I wait, I am sharing in that mysterious expectation. I am preparing myself to see God flaming in the world, to hear him blowing past my ears, to witness him bring understanding.

Waiting is the time to pray for eyes to really see and ears to truly hear.

Are you waiting for something?

Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose

Failure

I did an exam a few weeks ago and last week I was anxious about the results. It's part of getting my professional specialty qualifications. And it's work that I have found myself pretty suited to.

Before I went interstate to do the exam a kind, faithful man said, that because God was calling me into this particular work, the exams would go smoothly for me. He wanted to reassure me and help me not to worry.

I wish he was right. If only faithfulness or obedience, or even just a desire to be good, were enougn to make life smooth. If only God's call or blessing would guarantee a straight and comfortable path. But that's not what I look around and see.

What if God wants me to get through this exam, but he wants me to learn from the steps I take to get there? What if I haven't studied hard enough? Or if I have a difficult day? Is there a way for me to even know what God wants in regard to an exam or a choice of profession?

I wished my friend was right.

When the results came and I had passed one exam and failed the other, I really, really wished my friend had been right. I can reply to him that even if I don't pass I'll trust that God will look after me. But can I live it?

Can I put aside the embarrassment or disappointment of failing and get up and try again? Can I persevere and study, again, all those papers I was looking forward to shredding? Can I walk into the exam and be confident of passing when the possibility of failure is now more real?

Part of me would just like to go and do something else. And I know this will take energy and effort to stick at what I have set out to do. I need help to stay faithful to this.

I have the relief of knowing that this is not a right or wrong decision. I could walk away and it would not be wrong. But I think about people facing all sorts of roadbumps in their plans and having to persevere, because they know it is the right thing to do. It is human to want to give up in the face of struggle or failure. In the face of loss or betrayal or deep fear of the future. Especially when our hope of success or change falters. When we lose hope, the journey becomes so much steeper and rockier.

I see, in my current roadbump, that I will not be able to persevere without knowing grace and finding strength in God. I struggle to pull myself up by my own bootstraps and I need help. The moment hope has flamed for me, I was realising I don't need to find all strength within me.

I wish I didn't need failure to be reminded of my inner depletion. That I am insufficient in myself. But the deepest surge of joy and life within me came with remembering that God is longing to be my sufficiency. He delights in me remembering that.

Sharing with Emily,

I like this song

This is a very beautiful song.

(HT - Genevieve at Turquoise Gates)

The last days are here

In the last days,

they will tremble

in awe

of the Lord

and of his

goodness.

Hosea 3:5b.

Blogging and Repentance

So I wrote about leadership.

Mainly because I was hurt and angry. Partly because I wanted to stop being resentful. Bitterness in me breaks people I care about. So I wrote about it.

And then, in a series of unconnected moments, everything was turned upside down.

Suddenly there is spirit movement in the process and I see more around the corner than I expected.

How did the misunderstanding and disappointment sink into the ground and help things grow?

I confess amazement at the power of God to turn things upside down - especially my hurt, angry heart and my helpless hesitancy about the future. Now that is power.

God's love

This post from Cathy at Women Bible Life had me excited today, as I read of her realisations about God's love. I firmly believe that it is as we understand and know God's love more, that his spirit works in us.

That as we experience being truly loved

( not with "edited, flat, hollow, superficial, fluffy bunny, impotent love", but with robust, sacrificial, nail-pierced, death-conquering, all-seeing, gracious, merciful, marrow-deep, present in all circumstances love.)

we are transformed. We participate in God loving the world because he can love through us - perhaps this is being filled with the fullness of God. And he can do the unimaginable - show us real love and then empower us to love that way, too.

So thanks to Cathy for this verse, what an encouragement.

May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.

Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. Ephesians 3:19-20



God's gifts challenge us

“While God’s gifts are welcome, in fact they do disrupt. God’s gift of truth disrupts our systemic mendacity that denies our lethal social practices. God’s gift of generosity contradicts our parsimonious selfishness. God’s gift of mercy interrupts our hard-hearted indifference. God’s gift of justice exposes our systemic injustice. God’s gifts amount to an inconvenient reality among us; they remind us that what we have come to regard as ‘normal’ continues a deep abnormality in which we may have no complacency.”


–Walter Brueggemann, Living the Word. (Sojourners)

Self-perception

In idle, pondering moments, I've composed an idea of myself.  

I am the outsider. Walking lesser known paths but fearing obscurity.

'In the margins', I say. Not quite mainstream faith - born again and discipled in a Uniting church, nurtured by a Sydney Anglican university ministry, married into being a Baptist. Working as a doctor, that's not a 'real' doctor.

Is my deepest fear that I will be thought boring or not thought of at all?

I romanticise myself.

"Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless?"
Deliciously soul-piercing words, because they utter the fear, in all of us, of being misunderstood and forgotten. Why do I feel kinship with Jane, and not Mrs Fairfax or Adele? Would I imagine myself as Blanche Ingram? I call myself obscure while casting myself as the heroine.

Part of me longs for my 'honourable' or different choices to be noticed. And yet I am called to live a quiet life. Another layer peeled away reveals my pride. Why do I need you to see and acknowledge me?

I have been exorted to live my life for an audience of one. To care what God sees of me, and measure myself in his eyes. I forget this, and I become the 'one'. That's when I wonder what you think of me. I long for them to notice me. Because my opinion needs confirmation.

Jesus said it 3 times, and still I flounder.

Then your Father, who sees everything, will reward you.

Matthew 6:4,6,18.

He sees everything. I don't need to wave my arms around, or be different, or blog profoundly, or be the most generous. Just live it, and stop worrying about who's noticing. Discard self-consciousness. Worry about the one who never doubted my soul and heart, because he carefully formed them.



Light of the World

You are the light of the world

like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden.

(Matthew 5:14)

A call to Israel to realise that chosen-ness was not just a blessing but a calling. That God wanted to show himself to everyone. Jesus' spoken picture, calls the listening crowd to fulfill their heritage. I read the words, and am swept in, too. I am the light of the world. Not just me, but all those countless ones who have seen and then been the light. I sputter, a poorly connected neon-tube.

Each December, the light comes again. A reminder of how to sputter less and reflect more. A reminder of the grace given. And I can be part of it, with the light born of mercy burning in my belly - to give me courage and understanding.

Thanks be to the God of glory, the Father of the heavenly lights. He could just command and show. Instead he brings us into his glow - makes us the illumination of his grace. Gives weak glow-worms a part to play in a fire-works spectacular. Forms a shining city out of you and me.

Because of God’s tender mercy,

the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us,

to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,

and to guide us to the path of peace.

Luke 1:78-79.

giving thanks with Ann, at Holy Experience.

Why sacrifice?

I have always puzzled about animal sacrifices in the Old Testament. There is a messy barbarism to slaughtered animals, and I've wondered what pleasure God gains from the process. I cannot ignore that Israel are told to do it.

Hebrews cleverly dissects the practice to reveal that it is ultimately preparation for the gift of Jesus. He is the once-for-all-time sacrifice that draws us back to God. I get that.

But why start it in the first place? Was it to fit in with current cultural practices in other early civilizations? Did we (humans) do it and then include it in the Law to legitimise and syncretise the practice into Jewish lore (and law)? Did God think it was a good idea, or was it like Israel having a king, a human preoccupation given into by a God trying to win the hearts of his people? *ALERT - ideas in this paragraph are highly speculative*

I think I have recoiled at the idea, as slightly unpleasant and another thing about God that is 'beyond my ken'.

Then I read this article by Jean, and remembered that just because I don't know or understand, yet, doesn't mean there isn't an answer.

And I read Psalm 50.

O my people, listen as I speak.

Here are my charges against you, O Israel:

I am God, your God!

I have no complaint about your sacrifices

or the burnt offerings you constantly offer.

But I do not need the bulls from your barns

or the goats from your pens.

For all the animals of the forest are mine,

and I own the cattle on a thousand hills.

I know every bird on the mountains,

and all the animals of the field are mine.

If I were hungry, I would not tell you,

for all the world is mine and everything in it.

Do I eat the meat of bulls?

Do I drink the blood of goats?

Make thankfulness your sacrifice to God,

and keep the vows you made to the Most High.

Then call on me when you are in trouble,

and I will rescue you,

and you will give me glory.

Psalm 50:7-15.

God 'has no complaint about sacrifice'. People doing it are fulfilling his commands. But God does not need the physical gift (v9), in fact it is his already (v10).

The physical sacrifice is for the people. It is an outward expression of the thankfulness God wants in their hearts. In fact without the thankfulness, the acknowledging of God's endless giving to us, the sacrifices are worthless. Thankfulness makes sacrifice beautiful and holy. Thankfulness directs glory to God.

I understand a little more of God's desire for his people. He wants us to have hearts that give thankfulness in everything, thankfulness that hurts us because it takes from what we have, to acknowledge who owns all. Thankfulness that hurts means gratitude for things I find uncomfortable, for life being what I need rather than being what I desire. Gratitude for life that refines me, for dying with Christ.

But giving thanks is a sacrifice that truly honors me.

If you keep to my path,

I will reveal to you the salvation of God.

Psalm 50:23

Thanks be to God for his word, that brings refreshment, wrestling and direction. Glory to him.

Light to see

I climbed up the ladder to the top bunk. Teetered up to lie beside my lanky son. In the darkness, came his whisper. "How does my body go from awake to sleeping?" We followed the progression from quiet awareness, through softening muscles, stilling limbs, closing eyes, slowing brain waves, REM dreaming to deep, peaceful sleep. The cycle of shortening deepnesses repeated through the night that delivers us to meet a new day. The lessons learnt by newborns that make this calm slipping away so natural that we are not aware of our efforts as we do it.

It reminded me that so much of what we do is automatic, instinctive and not part of our conscious consideration. Some days I sail through with minimal awareness and hardly a nod to intentionality. I realise afterwards, the opportunities I've missed or the little things I could have done better.

The light dawns slowly. And I form these ideas...

To see clearly, I need to stop and look. I need to intend to use my eyes, and allow what I see to be a focus, not just the scenery to my life. I want to put useful pictures in my conscious mind, and then be moved by them, or let them change me. When I see something that is wrong, I want to feel compassion, and think of ways to bring help. The movement I want is from really seeing with my eyes, so that my heart and brain and spirit push my body to considered action.

To see clearly, to really see, I need the right light. Looking at the world in the light of God's love and of Jesus changes how we see things. Jesus' light survived the extinguishing power of death. It is a light that can search out and shine into any darkness. It illuminates rather than blinds. It highlights values like mercy, goodness, purity, faithfulness, humility and love.

The lights of this world shine off gold, money, comparisons, beautiful things, achievements and red carpet smiles. And the lies they entice us to believe are about how to be rich, how to be loved, how to be powerful and to trust in ourselves.

The light that God shines into our lives is unchanging. We just need to allow our eyes to become accustomed to it. To read his word, to see the cross of sacrifice and brokeness, the resurrection miracle that brings us into the light. To experience his mercy and love so that our eyes see the world bathed with his compassion and glory. To really see is to allow what we see to pierce us, to drive us to ask God to act and to rescue. To really see is to trust that God will bring his kingdom. To really see, is to look and see Jesus in each broken, human story before us, including our own.

The Word gave life to everything that was created,

and his life brought light to everyone.

The light shines in the darkness,

and the darkness can never extinguish it. (John 1:4-5)

Jesus said, "I have come as a light to shine in this dark world, so that all who put their trust in me will no longer remain in the dark." (John 12:46)

Sharing with Ann about really seeing, today.

Birthdays

I celebrated my birthday this week. Spring is perched on the windowsill, peeping in under the early morning blind, and pulling me outside to pick early peas - sweet, snap and snow. Winter lassitude is lifting and I'm hoping winter grumpiness will follow.

Spring reminds me of reading this reflection on consciousness and being born again. I am drawn to the idea that as we grow in new understandings, as our fellowship with and delight in God grows it is an experience of new birth. It is like the freshness of God's mercy each day. It is the memory of new steps in faith, or times of deeply knowing God's faithfulness, that I look back on like birthdays.

The circling journey of years is a way of reminding us of where we have come from. Of course, there are joyful and sorrowful reminders, but both are enriched by presence of God-with-us. And somehow, each time we pass that memory milestone it is indelibly marked by the new visits as well as the old.

I don't pretend to understand God and why he has made as he has made. But sometimes his wisdom is so apparent, when we can see its fruit in encouraging us.

Weakness that allows room for God

Sometimes what I set out to do, just doesn't go to plan.

When life is good, and I am cruising, the deviation from plan slides into place and I barely need to change gear. I absorb the impact.

When I am stretched already, I lose the room to accomodate and flex. There's not much 'wiggle room'.

I am discovering that it is in the second state that grace becomes more intense. Realising that I am not good enough, that I can't handle all that I am asked to, is deeply uncomfortable. It often makes me cry (in the most inconvenient places). But the uncomfortable realisation also brings the deep rest of knowing that God wants to do his work in me, through me. My inability allows God the room he is patiently waiting for.

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 2 Corinthians 12:9

Paper thin

There is a space between having-it-together and my dignity leaking out all over the pavement. Some days the distance narrows to a millimetre. Tears leak out of ducts, beckoned by a word. Angry words escape too easily, before my teeth spring shut the trap.

I am the one who creates inconvenience, work and pain for others. My face burns red when I realise that my apology will not salve the hurt I have caused. I owe, and hate to be in debt.

My tongue hesitates to speak my inadequacy and tiredness. Speaking it is such a relief. Cleansing confession.

My fractured, translucent shell protects me. I am stretched to feel its fragility. At any unexpected moment it slips, cracks. I expect to disintegrate.

Insignificant. Superfluous. I do not hold myself together. I cannot lend myself integrity or integration.

Remember who holds me together. I hide in his presence - source of integrity and integration...

How great is the goodness

you have stored up for those who fear you...

You hide them in the shelter of your presence,

safe from those who conspire against them...

far from accusing tongues.

Psalm 31:19-20.

Some days we feel crushed. By the incidental side-swipe, by the massive blow. Remember who is close, remember who gently scoops us into his encompassing embrace.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted;
he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.

Psalm 34:18

Thanks for...
ever-present shelter
rescue for crushed spirits
the source of integrity and integration
paper-thin dignity held together by divine grace
the ultimate hope of weakness buried and resurrection in glory

Our bodies are buried in brokenness, but they will be raised in glory. They are buried in weakness, but they will be raised in strength. 1 Corinthians 15:43.

the discipline of thankfulness...

Character

What does it mean to have character? Perhaps it's doing the right thing even when no-one is looking. Perhaps it's choosing the option that not many people would choose. Maybe it's picking yourself up from the ground, sweaty and dirt-smeared, and stumbling on to complete what you set out to do.

I've been prompted to think about this while listening to a series by Andy Stanley (Character Under Construction), which was recommended to me.

One of the pitfalls of preaching (as reported to me by those who practice the art) is reaching the culmination of your message and your listeners being left with the words "Just try harder." It's a message that's been employed by pharisees and all sorts of religious types over the centuries. It feeds guilt and creates enslavement to the law.

But isn't that what we need to pursue to have character? Be a better person. Try to be good. Do the right thing. Often that's how we pray - 'God help me to be a better me...'. I have prayed, 'God help me be more patient', through gritted teeth (which somehow ruins my 'patient' face).

I struggle with the idea that faith is about 'just try harder'. I don't think it works. Being a better me is puny and half-baked when compared with the inspiring call to be renewed in the image of Jesus.

A pastor I know, keeps reminding me that we will only really follow God and be Christ-like when we truly understand God's love for us. Guilt can't transform our hearts. But deep infiltration with sacrificial, inviting, cleansing love changes us forever.

Character grows when we are soaked in God's love.

How does it work? John talks about the branches abiding in the vine and fruit resulting (John 15). Romans talks about our minds being renewed and this leading to transformation (Romans 12).

When I know I am graciously and abundantly loved, I can see the world how God sees it. Sometimes its only momentary glances, but in those instants I have the eyes that really see. The basis of true wisdom. When I have God's vision of the world, of people around me, it becomes possible to act with grace. To see beyond myself and my needs. To see sacrifice as possible. To see purpose in serving and submitting. Then I can allow Jesus to love through me.

'Better-me' love is pale and wan compared with Jesus-shaped love.

Stanley teaches a simple prayer as part of his series of sermons. I admit I have made it a little more to my liking :).

God,

renew me with your love, 

so I can have the wisdom to know what's right,

and the courage to do what's right.

And I have started praying it.

Listen and live

Why listen?


Sometimes I get so caught up in the pursuit of ideas that I forget why I need them at all. I can find revelations and reminders. I can collect them, absorb them, examine them kaleidoscopically. But what then? A growing collection of collated and filed inspirations? I picture a shelved wall, laden with books, a rainbow of parallel spines. But dusty, shut-silent, unread. Beautiful and trapped.


An idea not experienced is just words. Living it is the breath of real existence for that thought. Enacting ideas gives them power and permanence. We turn away from the mirror and remember the visage.


So I ask myself again. Why listen? Why read? Why observe? To learn, but ultimately, to LIVE.


A man teaches and tells stories by a Galilee lake, and in a holy, templed city. He is like a shepherd calling his sheep, inviting them to listen and know him. The fruit of following such a shepherd is great.

"My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.

I give them eternal life, and they will never perish."

John 10:27-28.

But his words are hard, too. Exacting. Expecting obedience. Inviting transformation. It is impossible to listen to this man, and really hear him, and not be changed. To really hear him, is to follow him, to put it into practice.

“Anyone who listens to my teaching and follows it is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock. Though the rain comes in torrents and the floodwaters rise and the winds beat against that house, it won’t collapse because it is built on bedrock."

Matthew 7:24-25.

To live it is to do more than just listen. Let it invade our lives, infect everything we do, infiltrate our hearts, penetrate our minds. This word that we listen to, this spirit that speaks the words of God within us, they are powerful to change us and shape us. If we let them. If the listening, becomes hearing, becomes doing.

But don’t just listen to God’s word. You must do what it says.

Otherwise, you are only fooling yourselves.

For if you listen to the word and don’t obey, it is like glancing at your face in a mirror. 

You see yourself, walk away, and forget what you look like.

But if you look carefully into the perfect law that sets you free, and if you do what it says and don’t forget what you heard, then God will bless you for doing it.

James 1:22-25.

Powerful words. I listen, I try not to forget. I look at my life and I see that my house is built on rock, but sometimes I forget. I forget to be patient. I forget to have mercy. I forget that I am not the centre of the universe. I look in the mirror then forget what I look like.

Each day I need to listen, again. Listen to hear. Hear to obey. Listen to live.

The voice of God from heaven called Peter, James and John to listen to Jesus.

and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my dearly loved Son, who brings me great joy. Listen to him.” Matthew 17:5.

Moses taught the people of Israel to sing of listening to God's word like allowing a rain to fall upon them. A refreshing, life-giving, nurturing rain.

“Listen, O heavens, and I will speak!

Hear, O earth, the words that I say!

Let my teaching fall on you like rain;

let my speech settle like dew.

Let my words fall like rain on tender grass,

like gentle showers on young plants.

Deuteronomy 32:1-2

Listen carefully to the words of our God, they quench thirst, they provide solid foundations, they bring life. You will know his voice. Listen and live.

 

 linked to

What does a Sabbath really look like?

In the making of this world, there was work. An idea, an inspiration spoken into existence. A myriad of sights, sounds and awarenesses sprang (or perhaps gently eased) into existence. Living things fashioned to cohabit a vast and variegated universe. I cannot concieve in my thought-space how one perfect being could execute the birth (gestation and labour) of everything.

The work was done with purpose and with pleasure. Enjoyment of the results of the labour. The work culminated in rest. That seventh, Sabbath, day became special because the work ceased and because the worker enjoyed.

How do we live out a Sabbath now? What does it mean to have rest, as is part of the LORD's commands to Moses. In 24/7 world is it possible to live out a Sabbath day for the LORD?

I admit I am puzzled and that I struggle to rest.

I admit that I hang out my washing on sunny Sunday mornings before church, because school uniforms need to be dry to be worn on Monday. I admit that I am not sure if  people look out the window of our church and tsktsk when they see me do it.

Being busy, completing tasks, ticking boxes and cultivating efficiency are often ways to manage feelings of inadequacy, inferiority, guilt and loneliness. Sometimes I want to be busy so that people admire me or what I do. Most often it is so that God doesn't think I'm lazy or faithless. So that I can be reassured that I'm one of the 'good' people.

As I stare in the mirror I am starting to see a Pharisee, a self-righteous person. I struggle to rest because I'm secretly convinced that I am God, and that nothing will survive without me.

I need to rest, need it deep in my soul. The purpose of work is not to define me. It's purpose is to sustain me so I can enjoy God and his work. 

I need to be dispensible so that I can rely on God.
I need to grow weary and heavy-laden so I can go to Jesus and have his rest.
I need to be a child of God rather than do child of God type stuff.

The truths I need to hold together today...
God values work done to serve, to provide, to care and to grow.
God values rest, work ceased, enjoyment and celebration of him.

How can I weave them together?

Rest is the fulfilment of work. When I rest, then can I really listen. Without the discipline of rest, my work is dead.









(photo from stockxchng.)

Self-discovery

Chronic feelings of emptiness...

Persistently unstable sense of self...

We find out who we are, in relationship. Babies gradually learn that their mother is not just an extension of themselves. Children look into their parents' eyes and the 'gleam' they see there is a little reflection.

Gradually our 'self' gets defined edges. I know what I am not...

The space between me and another is alive with expectancy, with unspoken and voiced messages, with understanding, curiousity and the unknown. A strange mixture of clarity and cloudy obscurity. Do we ever really know another?

Between the defined edges, our very being, our soul. A unique arrangement of ideas, gut instincts, rationalities and unexplainables. Shaped in DNA but scored and sculpted by life as we see, hear, taste, touch and smell it. A very you-ness or me-ness, unmistakable and ready for discovery.

The meanderings of existence bring glimpses into the self. For some, this process brings maturation through challenge and the experience of nurturing relationships. Others search avidly but cannot find the ones to give their care and guidance.

Sometimes nurture fails, in its task to shape nature. The self remains mysterious, unknowable, a chasing after the mist.

And yet there is hope...

There is one who knows us not in fleeting glimpses, not as uncontainable mist. The God who knit our bodies also knows our souls. He sees us face to face, spirit to spirit, no need for shame at our naked brokenness. We can look into his eyes and the reflected gleam tells us deeply who we are.

We are people formed for relationship. With him and with each other.

People drawn into his kingdom by his son.

People who can participate in his nature and know his compassion. Sometimes, but briefly, now. One day wholeheartedly.

People dependent on his grace and touched by his holiness.

Today I ponder thanks for,

715.  love which helps me know myself

716.  hope for healing from human failure

717.  human love which kept me safe and helped me grow in childhood

718.  human love reflecting god

719.  opportunities to learn

720.  wisdom from others

721.  a one year old standing cheekily in the high chair, crowing

722.  a four-year old swinging from a place he shouldn't

723.  freshly clippered heads

724.  rats tails

725.  chocolate self-saucing pudding

726.  finding a favourite blanket

727.  having a dishwasher

 

This made me think today...

"The bible will never be a living book to us until we are convinced that God is articulate in his universe."  A.W. Tozer

Rain this week...

"When he sees how I yell at the kids, he must be disgusted with me..."

The words linger in the air as I realise that our time together has suddenly become real. Every week we four gather and we listen to the words of our maker. We ask for his help, we praise his goodness to us, we plead for the ones we love. We listen as his word rains on us and we try to let it soak into the soil of our lives. Hardly knowing the depth of our parched-ness, we allow trickles.

Eyes drift, minds wander, tongues search for the expected answer. Then it arrives, the truth shining like a glistening drop of rain. My friend looks to Jesus and sees disgust in his eyes, for her and for her broken-ness. The heat that evaporates each tiny raindrop before it can penetrate and refresh.

Compassion and love fills me as I listen, a tiny glimpse of the Father's heart, hearing self-condemnation and blame. She hides from the expected judging, disappointed eyes, and misses the look of grace, forgiveness, love.

I psychologise internally, but bite it in. No point in theorising, understanding humanly why. All that matters is to share the truth, the rain. God is love. Jesus looked into the eyes of a sinful woman and said "Neither do I condemn you".

For each of us, his broken body on the cross has shared the bitter, disappointment of our daily failure to love. Disgust is defeated. For each of us, his risen body brings the renewing, forgiving, spirit into our lives. A foretaste of pure life with him in a golden city, thirst-slaking from the spring of the water of life.

He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" Then he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."

He said to me: "It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the one who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life. Revelation 21:5-6.

Father, free us from the things that steal the rain before it can soak in. Help us see our dryness and know your rain is falling. Help us know for what we thirst.