Feathers and Wings

The sun is not out, the rain is pouring down and as I sit staring outside my study window at the long grass I'm claiming to grow into a wildflower meadow I see stuck to a long blade of grass a feather. In the wind it holds on tight and doesn't want to let go. 

I open my front door, realise that the torrential rain means I shouldn't go out in my slippers, put on my trainers and go to rescue the feather clinging for dear life to the the blade of grass as the wind blows strongly. 

The feather is now on my desk. It dried out quickly, it's found its shape again, but it is clearly feeling the effects of that moment in the storm. It looks a bit bedraggled and will never be the same again, not least because its fallen from the wings of the bird it belonged to. 

Over the last 18 months or so I have found the image of being under God's wings really helpful. It comes from Psalm 91:4 which says:

"He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart"

At the moment I desperately want refuge. I desperately want to find calm in the storm, I love the moments when I'm snuggled up in my duvet with nine pillows (yes nine) in my smallest bedroom because it feels cosiest and a bit like a protective nest. 

But every day I have to get up and carry on doing the work I am called to. And each time I do that I worry what I might encounter and I don't want to go to the shop and I feel grief for the state that our country, that the world is in as we face what is before us. The protective wings don't feel like they are there any more. At a time where we are encouraged to hide, hiding is not possible, and to be honest, there are times I'm a bit scared. 

While I know that God is with me, I have to emerge from under the protection of his wings as I do the work I need to do, as I encounter difficult situations and have to go out into the community to make sure that other people can find shelter under his wings, as I guide people to where the shelter lies and look after those that despite being under the shelter are so battered and bruised they need gentle tender care.

My encounters with God, right now, are not about the safety of being under His wings, but are about the feathers that are promised - "he will cover you with feathers". And as I walk onwards, away from the safety of the hidden places, it is the feathers that remind me that there is a safe place and I will return to it, if not today, another day, if not another day, one further away - but those wings are still there. 

As I watch the feather clinging onto the grass in the rain and the wind, it becomes a sign of hope - that there are wings, the safe place is there. As I see the sunshine break through the rainclouds, goldfinches on my drive, the clematis in the back garden come into bloom, the smile that greets me as I knock on a door and the signs of thriving despite - those things, they bring promise that again those wings will be where I find rest once more.

But for now, I simply need to recognise that God is here, he is working, he is living, he is active. He is in the actions and the sacrifice of those who each day emerge from the safety of their doorways, scatter, do those things they have to do, ready to return to do it all over again. He is in the sunshine and the rain, the voices on the end of the line, the loud singing of the London birds, the weekly zoom meetings that bring life (some of them actually do) and in the feathers that dance in the wind and the rain that remind us that those wings, they are there. 

Made, Loved, Kept......

“And in this he showed me a little thing, the quantity of a hazelnut, lying in the palm of my hand, as it seemed. And it was as round as any ball. I looked upon it with the eye of my understanding, and thought, ‘What may this be?’ And it was answered generally thus, ‘It is all that is made.’ I marvelled how it might last, for I thought it might suddenly have fallen to nothing for littleness. And I was answered in my understanding: It lasts and ever shall, for God loves it. And so have all things their beginning by the love of God.

In this little thing I saw three properties. The first is that God made it. The second that God loves it. And the third, that God keeps it.”   

- Julian of Norwich in Revelations of Divine Love

This image of the hazelnut has struck me ever since I first encountered it in our spirituality module at college - a small thing, a seemingly insignificant thing - made by God, loved by God, kept by God. It reminds me that however I feel, however small, however insignificant, however lost in the moment, that I am made by God, loved by God, kept by God.... and that's what matters. 

In the Dr Seuss book, which I only know really in the film 'Horton hears a who', a dust speck is dislodged from somewhere obscure and as it floats through the air, Horton (an elephant) hears a tiny voice shouting from it. Horton believes that a whole society of tiny creatures lives on that speck and so he makes it his mission to keep that tiny little world safe, so he seeks to find them the safest place in the jungle. Unfortunately the speck is stolen by the head of the jungle, Sour Kangaroo, who seeks to destroy it because Horton has disobeyed him. The film, fortunately, ends well for the creatures on the speck, and they are saved, a whole society living on a speck who had made enough noise to be heard by Horton as their world was rocked from the dislodging. 

I love this image too - of Horton saving the tiny little world, of carrying it through chaos and uncertainty to be in a place where it is safe - he forgives the Kangaroo for trying to destroy it too, because he didn't know of the little tiny world on the little tiny speck. 

The image, however, is lacking, because it depends on the noise of the citizens on the speck for them to be noticed..... and, unlike the hazelnut in Julian of Norwich's description, it is through its own effort that it finds its place in the universe. 

As we journey through life, we often approach it like the society on the insignificant speck, shouting out and hoping that Horton the Elephant will hear our cries - or anyone - whatever it is out there - will rescue us.... we hope that if we shout loud enough someone will hear, we hope that if we shout loud enough things will change, we hope that if we make a big fuss the Sour Kangaroo will put us down and let us be so we can continue to live our lives in the way we want.

What the image of the hazelnut tells us, is that whatever is happening, however small or insignificant we feel, however much we feel like we are shouting into the abyss, however broken we feel -  that actually, before anyone hears us, God, our loving and heavenly Father - he has us in his hand and he knows us; we are made by Him, we are loved by Him and we are kept by Him. 

How beautiful and how marvellous is that? You, we, I - all of us - are that significant. 

"You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. 
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar. 
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
you Lord, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me"
Psalm 139:1-5

World Famous Market Theology

I live in Bury - I don't normally say that because Ramsbottom is one on its own - it's a unique and sparkly bohemian enclave of surprises - but it's in Bury (despite what some people might like to argue and think). 

Bury as a borough is diverse, and in Bury town centre that diversity comes together in all its sometimes bizarre, often confusing, always beautiful, glory. I rarely leave Bury having not been surprised by what I have witnessed. Last weeks visit did not disappoint, as I walked up from the car garage, leaving my car to be serviced, I had the chance to spend more time there then I normally do.... with the slightly off key x-factor wannabe on the main street and the arrival of a new building to draw attention away from the shops left empty because of the aspiration of a town that tries really hard. 

Bury is famous for a couple of things. It's famous for its Black Pudding and it's also famous for its market. World famous actually. Sitting at the back of the second nicest shopping centre out of the two in the town, it stands proud as signs point to the coach pick up point where coaches gather to wonder why this trip is taken by so many from extreme parts of the country to this market in this town where things you could buy in most other small towns just like Bury (apart from the black pudding of course) can be bought. 

As I had a bit of time of unknown length last week to shuffle around Bury I thought I'd give it a go. For the second time in six years I entered the market. I shifted myself away from the meat hall and the fish hall (I've always avoided fish halls in markets) and I wandered, taking it all in. 

And as I wandered I wondered... what is it about this market that everyone loves? It's no different to the markets I grew up with. The clothes are the same. The shops with the biggest bags of sweets you've ever seen are the same. The stalls selling random gifts and velcro slippers and trainers with one letter changed in the name... they're the same. There is a nod to changes in the world as the phone case stall shines out with its jewel backed cases and the Christmas novelty wine jumpers of 2017 have pride of place at the front of the stall.... 

But nothing has changed..... so what is then the attraction of the world famous market?  

It tells of a time that was. As the world moves on, the old school weighing and measuring, the paying in cash, the sounds and smells of the market, it reminds us of how this country used to be. It reminds us of a time when it was simpler - when there were two TV channels and it was rare to have a home phone. It reminds us of the golden age that we look through with our rose tinted glasses and elevate higher than high can be. 

Nostalgia is not a bad thing, because the past is our story, the past is what makes us, the past is how we became the people we are today. The movement in the past helps influence us in the future.

But when nostalgia leaves us in a place where the world famous market is as good as it gets....? When nostalgia becomes a bubble where we're dropped off at the entrance and picked up after a walk round, not daring to leave the world famous part just in case the bubble pops..?

As I reflected on love of the world famous market, and how it would have once been the centre of Bury life,  I thought about church, and our love for the nostalgia of church as centre of society and how that influences the way in which we do many things. If we do this, people will come.... why? Well, we're world famous. 

But we're not, we live in exile, so often only turned to for nostalgic coach trips at weddings and christenings and as visitor attractions and quickly left behind with a bag of goodies (well not even that) to sustain on the journey home. As church sits on the margins of society, then just like it will with the world famous market, it is going to take out of the box thinking and imagination to journey into the future. 

Good job we worship a God who is a God of out the box thinking. This is God who didn't defeat evil with force and strength, but with vulnerability and death. This is God who brought fire in the upper room and gave the disciples the ability to talk in other languages so that they could spread the message to the world who didn't understand the words they spoke. This is God who is world famous because he made and saved the world. 

This is God. 

This is God who calls us to listen, and to leave everything behind and follow him. 

As the market continues to be world famous and separates itself as a museum in itself, continuing to be what was and will continue to be, and as we continue to hold it up high as how things shoulda-oughta be, we need to keep reminding ourselves to stop and look around and imagine and wonder.....  

Because how things have always been cannot be how they forever continue to be.

All the Rowboats

I recently re-discovered a song by Regina Spektor called “All the Rowboats”. The song starts with these words:

“All the rowboats

In the paintings

They keep trying to row away”

The song then goes on to talk about how those rowboats will never row away because there is always a frame in the way.... however much they want to get away they will get stuck as they can’t see life beyond the edge of the painting where the frame obscures their view.

When people thought the earth was flat, their fear of falling off the edge prevented them from exploring too far.

When you discover life beyond the edge of the frame.... when you discover that the earth is spherical and not flat... it opens up possibilities much larger than your brain can often comprehend. Your world view suddenly expands....

Our tendency to limit our experience means however, that we fill up with fear when the possibilities grow. We live with fear when we see possibilities we have never seen before.

We should never be surprised when we see things beyond the edge of the frame that we have been living within. There is life beyond our own experience that we might find difficult to comprehend, yet is out there for us to explore. I believe in God, who is bigger than the frames we use to limit ourselves, yet we often forget to look beyond our own frames to see what he is doing through the things we don’t engage with.

The world does not revolve around our own picture, limited by the frame we choose to put around ourselves. When we see beyond to the other and the different, the possibilities are endless. I read an article in the Guardian this morning about a church in Stoke where a number of refugees from a Muslim background have been converting to Christianity. Sadly as this has happened some of the traditional white congregation in the church have left, failing to see life beyond their tidy frames that narrowly define what church should be. 

Where do the edges of your picture frame lie – where is your experience and your learning limited by your own barriers? Push them out a bit.... row your boat a little bit further.... you never know what you might discover.... you never know what God might be doing..... adventure is an exciting thing. 

I want to fly

I regularly walk down paths and walk past other paths and think 'I wonder where that goes?' and then carry on in my normal direction. If I am going somewhere that's OK - it wouldn't make sense to take a different path if I didn't know where it went. However, if, like yesterday, I am just going for a walk to clear my head, the 'wonder where that goes' can be answered. 

So yesterday I did. I didn't go the way I normally go, I turned sharply left, up steep steps to the top of a small hill I've never climbed before. It wasn't that exciting. It didn't take me where I expected it to, but I did it - I didn't just wonder, I went. 

When I got to the top of the hill the path came out from the woods into a field - a field that I've walked in before but never found the path to the wood. As I walked through the field the path system began to make sense. I knew where I was going, but was disappointed to end up where I had been just fifteen minutes ago. My loop walk was not a loop any more. 

Before I ended up where I had been, I saw a movement in front of me. The swift flapping of wings which then stopped. A butterfly had landed on the floor in front of me. It wasn't a colourful butterfly, but it was a butterfly - perfectly formed and beautiful. 

Butterflies seem to be the theme of the month. I have two laminated pictures of butterflies I've picked up at things I've been to. I seem to be collecting a lot of clothes with butterflies on and the new beautiful coat I have just bought has butterflies on the inner lining that I didn't notice until I had bought it. 

Butterflies speak of freedom. They speak of hope. They speak of new life - a new life that is released from the boundaries of the chrysalis that came about after a seemingly long lifetime of leaf munching. They speak of a life on the wind that blows wherever it will. When I see a dead butterfly although I admire its beauty, I mourn the loss of its ability to ride on the wind. 

Butterflies remind me that even in the most monotonous of things (leaf munching) there is hope of something better. They remind me that even where something looks dead (the chrysalis) there is hope of new life. In the human created systems that restrain us to how things 'should' be done we miss the freedom that that hope brings. Too often our systems institutionalise us and leave us in a place where leaf munching seems best or where we want to keep warm and safe in our chrysalis and we miss the beauty of hope. 

Yet when we let go we can ride on the wind. I love that. I don't want to be constrained or held back because of what we like doing now. I don't want to be stuck inside a controlling and constricting chrysalis. I want to fly.

John 3:8 says this:

"The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit."

When we live with the freedom the Spirit brings we are able to take the path we are guided to even if we don't know where it is going and be confident in the knowledge that it's going to be OK because we can trust in God who brings the greatest hope and freedom we can ever dream of. 

It's not always easy, it's very risky, but to be released from that chrysalis brings new and exciting opportunity. I want to fly. I want to stop 'wondering if' and go with where God takes me.

Logical Thinking

Logic. The tool of a mathematician. When you are learning maths, unless you are some kind of genius, you need to be taught logical ways to work through problems. The cries of 'why do I need to show my working?' are always answered, 'because you need to learn how to set out your work in logical steps to set up for the future hard maths you will do'. 

Logic. I used to teach someone who was better than me at maths. He would do a problem and if he came to the wrong conclusion he would ask me to see if I could work out what he had done wrong. The problem is that most of his logical working was different to my logic. He missed out bits, he did lots in his head, it took me a long time to make sense of his work because the way he thought logically was different to the way I thought logically. 

The problem I have when people come to different conclusions to me is when I am told that what I think or believe has no logic. I admit occasional lapses into illogicalness, and when that happens I do tell myself off for it, or proclaim my fallible humanity that I cannot always be perfect. I have a problem though, when somebody tells me I am illogical, just because they disagree with me and assume I have not thought my deep held beliefs through. I would never believe in anything that I hadn't thought through and didn't make sense - I'm a mathematician. 

I read recently an article in the Independent that is headlined 'Religious People are less intelligent than atheists....'. It can be found here. This hit home with me because I have been basically told I am stupid and illogical for believing in God - that I might as well believe in the flying spaghetti monster for all the sense it makes. When you read through the article you discover that actually the research is quite flawed and subjective - the researchers themselves do not take this as evidence that only 'stupid' people believe in God, but that there is more to it than that. They state the argument for more intelligent people not turning to religion as normally being that '...religious beliefs are irrational, not anchored in science, not testable....', but go on to conclude that there is something with more intelligent people that as they feel more capable in reason, that they do not want to lose control of what they can control - that there is an element of personal control in rejecting what they don't understand. 

Now, I don't know whether that is true, and I am always suspicious when it comes to studies like this because of their subjectivity and the margins for error in statistical testing.... but there may be something in the fact that if we accept God as necessary and rational (which many intelligent people do), then that challenges our own human capabilities and often our perception of reason, and some of us find that a huge challenge because it does mean letting go of control. 

For me it makes sense to believe in God. When I look at the world around me and in a way that is so finely tuned it makes even more sense.  I came across an article by John Polkinghorne about The Anthropic Principle a while ago, which really excited me because it linked the beauty of Physics with the existence of God (worth a read). The more I learn about science, the more God makes sense. 

I believe logic and reason do point to God. I value the work of intelligent Scientists who are also Christians that explain it in much better ways than I can (see The Faraday Institute for examples and more to read). So when I say I'm a Christian, I wish people would think and get to know me before they assume I'm illogical, because for me, it makes sense. Science and Religion are not in conflict and when we put our faith in human intelligence being the be all and end all of everything, I believe we miss out. 

Every time I learn something new about the world, I cannot help myself but glorify God. 

'Maybe I don't want to talk to you right now'

I am the sort of person who is happy to spend time with people in companionable silence. I don't need to talk. The thing that makes companionable silence different to just silence is that it doesn't become awkward. There is a recognition that just being there makes the difference and if there are silences it doesn't matter. There is space to enjoy your own thoughts and know that the other person doesn't mind. You don't need to fill the silence, because the silence makes the time together better. 

Now I have a bit more time in my life, because college has broken up for the summer, and the weather is unusually non-Lancashire (in that it is dry) I have been trying to walk more. Yesterday I walked to one of the most beautiful places I can walk to from my house (within a sensible length of time). I always forget how beautiful it is until I walk there. The last time I walked there was in deep snow, but this time it was in full blown summer, and although the same place it was very different. 

There are a few reasons why I walk. Firstly, it is good for me. Secondly, I enjoy it - it helps me stomp out some of the frustrations of the days and gives me time to reflect and thirdly because it is where God and me sometimes have a bit of a conversation - where God speaks to me most - maybe because I just have time to be. 

On the way to the most beautiful place I said to God, 'so tell me, what is it you want me to do next'. I felt him saying to me, 'maybe I don't want to talk to you right now, maybe I just want to walk with you as you enjoy your surroundings'.

There's always that moment when you think, 'well is that actually what God is saying?', yet this made me stop in my tracks. Sometimes we can be so busy looking to the next, we forget the beauty of what is around.... and because of that I walked through the most beautiful place slowly and looked up and around. 

The most beautiful place is a wood, a wood where there are dark places the sun doesn't get to, that even after the recent sunny days are still boggy, a wood where the sunlight shines through and dapples the path ahead, a wood where there are many different types of trees - some old, some new, but beautiful (trees are actually really quite beautiful). 

I noticed that a lot of the trees had branches that were twisting and turning as they were reaching to the light - like the growth in the canopy above changed year on year so the direction of growth of the trees changed year on year. The path of growth is always heading upwards but stops and changes direction from side to side when it needs to. Fixed on the light it knows where to go. 

I often wonder when we try and look at the light of God we look to the step ahead on the road we are going in first before we look at where we are now in relation to him. If we only look in the direction we know then we miss where God's light is actually shining. Yesterday God's light was shining on where I was right then - he wanted me to appreciate his beauty in creation, seeing how creation responds to him and the natural laws he has created. 

God and me in companionable silence. Sometimes that's all I need and I forget that as I wait for something profound. Right now I am determined to rest with him as I wait..... no awkward silence, just peace. 

Welcome to Narnia

One of the key points for me in Narnia has always been the lampstand. It represents a world come from to a world revealed. It is a key signpost home and it has links with the past. 

I am blessed to live in a beautiful part of the country where we have our own hill. We don't actually own it, but if you live in Ramsbottom then Holcombe Hill is your hill. It rises above the town, marking a boundary point and an observation point. On top of the hill is Peel Tower that you can see for miles around. When you are coming home, the tower appears, so you know home is near. Living at the foot of the hill occasionally there is an urge to climb the hill. The last time that happened to me was on Easter Monday on 4 hours of sleep. This morning at 6am I had that urge again. 

The thing with climbing the hill is that it takes you above and outside of real life. You can look down, and this morning particularly clearly, even see as far as Manchester. You gradually remove yourself from the world of normality and get time to stop and think. At the top of the hill is a bench. That bench is one of the best placed benches I know with amazing views, yet rarely when I want to sit on it is there anyone else on it - there is always space to sit and be. 

When I go up the hill from my house I tend to go up a cobbled old road. On this road, about half way up, is a lamp post. It's a proper Narnia lamp stand. This morning it signified the removal of myself from all the agitation of everyday life. At that point on the walk I felt I was entering Narnia - an imaginary world detached from the mundane, the irritation, the problems. 

Narnia is not a place where problems disappear. When you think about Narnia it is not a fantasy world of perfection like many other children's books might portray as the problems of the world left are still there, but different. Edmund is still an idiot and makes the wrong choices, Lucy is still an annoying small child, but with great wisdom, Peter is still the annoying older brother, but who wants to look out for his siblings. Susan is still Susan (I never really liked Susan - don't know why). 

Going past the lampstand for me today was not a run away from the problems and difficulties and agitations of normal life but was a step aside from them. A chance to look down and across at them and to say 'God, here you go, help me with this, what's your perspective?'.

When you take some time and sit apart from the world that troubles you it is easier to get some God perspective.

We can't expect to take ourselves into a Narnia of oblivion where all our problems disappear - that place doesn't exist, but in Narnia we might expect to meet Aslan - who in the stories is symbolic of Jesus who takes all of our burdens, helps us to carry them and gives us peace. 

Jesus said this:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”                                   Matthew 11:28-30 MSG

The same but different

I've probably read somewhere that your 20's and early 30's are the time of the biggest change in your life. You leave school, go to university perhaps, get frustrated about not knowing what you are going to do next when everybody is asking you what next... The expectation, particularly in Christian circles of finding a husband or wife and beginning a family is huge and totally over-emphasised in too many places and if you are not one of the ones who gets married off quickly you become unusual and people feel sorry for you (when there is nothing to feel sorry about). 

Ten years ago I was finishing my time working with UCCF (Universities and Colleges Christian Fellowship) as a relay worker with the CU at York St John's College. It was a strange year, a year when lots of stuff happened, but a year that I really valued and came out a stronger and more determined follower of Jesus. 

Life has changed abundantly since then. I've grown up, a lot. I've become more confident. I am more outspoken (in a quiet, Claire like way) and I'm totally sure of my identity in Christ. 

Last week I went to Keswick Convention for the first time, just for a couple of nights... don't want to push it! We went to a question and answer session, I didn't really want to go. I was reminded of a question and answer session in a Biblical Evangelism Conference before I went on to be a relay worker where we were told that of course, male headship was a given even if we do let women speak..... 

I was expecting it to be like that. But it wasn't. Although the views of the panel on the issues they were asked about were generally clear, and I didn't necessarily agree with them all the time, there was a huge amount of grace and understanding that real people were involved and that people need to discover the way forward for themselves and we need to support them as part of Christ's family. 

When we are listening and answering one another we should never make assumptions about where anyone is coming from, perhaps we should always expect to be surprised. 

Would I go to Keswick again? Probably. I was disappointed that it was very male dominated, but I was only there for two days. I disagreed with almost everything one of the speakers said, but that's OK. I loved the commitment to Young Adults and being part of something bigger, the commitment to Scripture and the focus on the cross. In some ways it was like going back to the stuff I used to do ten years ago, but I've gone back with a different attitude and a more thoughtful mind..... so that makes it very different to what I was doing ten years ago. 

So yes, I've changed a lot. I'm doing my second degree, embarking on a totally different way of working, living in the smallest place I've ever lived in on the rainy side of the Pennines where life is very different. God is changing me, transforming me, but he stays the same - unchanging, awesome, loving, gracious, creator God.

Generous Owners and the like....

I'm in the middle of packing for India, lists all over the place that can't quite be completed..... an element of confusion about what I really need to be taking. I'm a rubbish packer, but for this trip I'm trying to be a good packer. It's hard! I'd quite like somebody to pack fro me please. 


One of my problems with packing today is that I keep being distracted by this verse from Matthew, and it's niggling me:


".....are you envious because I'm generous?"  Matthew 20:15b


We thought about it a little this morning in the service. Do we sometimes get envious because we see God at work in places we don't go or with people we don't like.....? 


It's a hard question to answer, that one from Matthew. I'd like to say no, but then something niggles at me and says that sometimes, perhaps, I am........


The verse is from a parable about the Kingdom of heaven - the vineyard owner gives each worker equal pay, whether they started work at the beginning or end of the day. The ones who have worked harder believed they deserved more, but the generous owner believed everyone deserved the same. 


This week I have been amazed at God's provision, and I am feeling very blessed that God has given me the opportunity to go to India to see the work that the Baptist Missionary Society is doing in Kolkata. I'm praying that the team I am going with (Louise, Jon, Andrew, Richard and Rosemary) and I will be given new insight into what the Kingdom of God means in a situation and culture that is entirely different to our own. 

Releasing and Trusting

I had a church related nightmare last night. I forgot something very important. I also forgot the thing that could help me remember the thing that I forgot that was very important.

Church related nightmares are different to teaching ones. Teaching ones always involved other people making your life difficult. Church ones involve you letting other people down. I don't get them very often, but when I do I wake up feeling disorientated and confused...... 

This morning I was reading Job 38. Job is reminded by God of his greatness. 

"Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?

Tell me, if you have understanding.

Who determined its measurements - surely you know!

Or who stretched the line upon it?

On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone 

when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?"

                                                                                              Job 38:4-7

There are so many times that we try to deal with things in our own strength when actually God is much bigger than that. When we pray we don't always expect real practical answers - God created the world yet we limit him to 'maybe' prayers. 

Over the past few days I've once again been reminded that God does things way beyond our expectations. 

In five days I go to India. I don't really know what to expect when I get there, so I haven't been worried about that. I have been more worried about the practical stuff. I often find it easier to trust God with the stuff I don't know than the stuff I do - stuff I can more easily control causes me greater worry. 

God has blessed me in the stuff I can control though, time and time again. It reminds me that so often I just need to let go of my grip and let God get on with it. Anything is possible.

There's no place like home

It really irritates me the way facebook asks you to say where you live and then keeps on asking what your home town is. My home town is where I live. I don't think I am the only one who has this problem, but I might be the only one who is awkward and doesn't want to write Ramsbottom twice. Home for me isn't a specific location (like where I grew up or where my parents are), it's where I feel comfortable and wherever I have lived I have always called home. It's not just facebook either - people are always asking 'where are you from?' By that they mean, I think, 'which other place, rather than the place you are now do you have an affiliation with that is reasonably strong?' Well, actually, nowhere. 

I was walking today and walked past ruined house after ruined house. The scenery and the style of the houses reminded me of my Wright ancestors who came from a small hamlet in the middle of the moors. Here they are outside their house not far from Masham in Yorkshire:

This family lived in the same small selection of houses, right next door to each other, for most of the 19th century. They had somewhere they had always called home. It was home though, not just because they lived there, but because the people they loved lived there. 

I wonder if now we have too many options, which is why we don't put down roots. I have lived in ten different houses in six different places. My identity is not formed by where I come from but from where I am. My only affiliation appears to be to the Midlands and the North. If I moved south maybe I might become a Northerner. 

Bricks and mortar are temporary. As I continued to walk today I saw the most beautiful tree next to one of the ruins. God created that tree, and while the house that humans built lies spectacularly in ruins, and the sign that humans put up fades, the tree continues to grow. 

God is so much bigger than we can imagine, yet so often it is easier to limit our own expectations of God because we feel more comfortable establishing our own identity. I walked through a farm today. The public footpath was first blocked by a car, and then by the washing, and then I was leaving the farm two massive Alsatians started barking and then before I knew it they were chasing me off the farm (down the public footpath). The people who lived on the farm clearly wanted to establish boundaries that saw off any member of the public who deigned to use that footpath. 

When we are comfortable in our own lives, our own homes, our own churches, do we block God's way by putting stuff in the way? Do we limit our expectations, not because we don't believe he can do more, but because we don't really want him to do more?

My identity is not found in where I was born or where I lived last year or where my parents are, but is found in where I am now, journeying with God. May my expectations of God be never limited by anything.

'Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.'            Ephesians 3:20-21