Walking with familiar things - Psalm 23 Reflection

It's the familiar isn't it that keeps us going on at the moment - familiar words, familiar songs, familiar faces, routine that continues like getting dressed for work in the morning and Emmerdale on for now for three nights a week. It's the photos that surround us and the daily whatsapps and updates. It's even the daily Government report. 

It's the familiar Bible passages, the words that have been said so many times they are implanted in my brain ready to fall out whenever I need a little encouragement. Those verses prompt songs and memories and give strength and a reminder that there is always hope and that I can find rest and I'm not the only one feeling the way I do right now. 

Whenever we face crisis in life, it's those familiar things that anchor us, that help us to pause for a moment. It's why I have been turning back to the Psalms - the ones I almost know off by heart because they soothe my soul. And when I do so and reflect on those words I am reminded that I'm not alone, God has me, and it will be OK, it might look different, but it will be OK. 

Today I've been thinking about a funeral service and what passage would be a good one to include and I said to myself 'it's got to be Psalm 23' - why? Because those words speak directly into the time of unknown, the time of grieving, the time of not knowing where we are coming or going.They speak of one who is there with us in all the dangers we face.  

So Psalm 23 is the Psalm of the day. And as I reflect on it, here is a version for what we face right now as we literally walk through (or try and isolate away from) the valley of the shadow of death. May this be an encouragement - one day we will feast  together again.  

The Lord is my shepherd, my carer, my guide, the one who feeds me and guards me. 
I shall not be in want, I shall not be left alone, I shall not be in need.

He makes me pause and rest, to lie down, to process, to take in the world around.
He leads me to a place where the noises of traffic have stopped, the sky is clear from the tracks of the aeroplanes and the phone, just for a while is silent.

He refreshes my soul, reminds me I'm loved, soothes my fears.
He guides me as to when to take risks and when to stay in, on the right path that shows love and care to others as well as me - for his sake, because he loves us all. 

Even though right now it seems like we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. 
Even though right now we must hide from those we love because the days are dark.

We have no need to fear, because the Lord is with us - his rod and his staff, his sheltering wings, his home delivery at just the right time - they comfort us and soothe our pain and fears. 

He prepares a table before us so we will gather again once again and feast, he does this because there is hope beyond where are now. He does this even though the virus still rages. He does this because it is in community gathered we reflect his image in glorious beauty. He does this because he gives us hope that all of this will end and there are better days. He does this as he gives us the promise of eternal life. 

He anoints us - chosen, gathered, sent with oil and our cups overflow with blessings - blessings that we see in the small things - blessings that we see in the huge things - blessings that are unexpected.... they're all there, if we look. 

Surely this will end, each day is a day closer to that, and as we journey in the way of the shepherd, his goodness and his love will follow us, for all the days of our lives. 

And we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Isolation Psalm (Reflection on Psalm 139)

Lord, you know me better than I know myself. 
You know when I sit on the sofa and you know when I go for my daily walk. 
You know exactly what I am thinking even though you seem far away. 
You know when I go out too often and you know when I don't feel like getting up.
You're familiar with all my habits and thinking. 
Before I get tongue-twisted on the phone or forget what I was going to say
You, Lord, know what I want to say already (sometimes I need you to tell me).
The knowledge you have of me is vast and wonderful
And I don't think I will ever understand my strange behaviour at the moment as you do. 

Where can I go from your Spirit? 
Where can I flee from your presence? 
If I go up onto the roof (that's not going out is it?) you are there. 
If I hide under the covers (that's definitely not going out) you are there.
If I rise earlier than I would normally do (why can't I sleep?)
If I settle into a rhythm that's alien but works
even there your hand will hold onto me,
Your right hand will help me stay upright. 
If I say, "Surely no one will remember me if I hide away
and the joy of being outside will become something to be forgotten"
even if I hide away for six months, you'll still find me
in the isolation I will never be alone, because however dark it gets, you are there. 

For you created me, from the inside out. You spent time knitting a pattern that had never been knitted before in my mother's womb. 
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Everything you do is wonderful, and I know that, in my deepest being. 
My design was completely revealed to you when I was made in a place no one else could see,
when I was woven together in the dark secret place. 
Your eyes saw me before I even looked like me
And all the days were already written down before I even existed. 
I'm really interested in what you are thinking God, 
Because your thoughts must be infinitely big. 
I would try and count them (and I've probably got time now, so say some people) but I know they are too many to count, even when in isolation.... 
Even if I go to sleep, when I open my eyes you are still there. 

If only you God, would destroy this virus. 
Away from me, all other people and your germs. 
This virus is not of you, but yet for a while it lives and claims to have control over our lives. 
I hate this virus, Lord, just as you hate it
Just as you mourn at the suffering of so many. 
I have nothing but hatred for it
I count it as my enemy. It makes me so mad. 

Search me, God, you know how my heart is. 
Test me and know that I am full of worry and fear. 
See that I don't take out my frustration on anyone
And lead me in your way, which speaks of a life lived beyond my front door. 

On arrival at the year that seemed so far away

At the end of 2019 the trend of offering the creation a photo book that rips your photos from your social media with underlining captions appears to be the advertisement of choice. It’s an interesting exercise to do if you are an over-poster like me because it gives an overview of in-the-moment comments and photos that tell the story of a year that has brought all sorts of changes and challenges both in my personal life and in the life of just about everyone I know (unless you have been hiding in a box). The cost of those books once formed is another challenge probably not to be faced but for a moment it creates a time to reflect. 

On the 1st January 2019 the next 365 days stood solid before me with a number of challenges to face - some expected and just about controllable, some expected but beyond the control of most of us and some completely unknown. It’s been a year of change and celebration, a year where work has overtaken my life in ways I never thought work could and a year of what only can be described as chaos in this country that is seeking to find a new identity within parameters that can’t currently hold what it is. 

Underlying all of this is a holding on..... a holding on to what grounds us, what keeps us upright and what keeps us steady. For me my holding on has come through song - particularly through the songs of Lauren Daigle who has reminded me again and again of my own capabilities, gifting and worth in God as the punches and stumbling blocks have raised their ugly heads. The holding on has also come through the small things - and the story my Instagram book of the year tells - in amongst the working too hard and the change and those around me losing their heads as I try to keep mine - is this story.  A story of baking and bucket lists and shoes and giant strawberries.... an impressive collection of ikea pencils and the roses that brought joy at the right moment.... glorious skies with burnt orange sunsets and glittery antlers that hardly left my head in the week leading up to Christmas..... a story of love and of friendship, of stoicism (I even bought a badge) and keeping on keeping on.... that in a year of being kept me on track. 

In some ways 2020 has crept upon me. It hadn’t occurred to me that it was the end of a decade - the year with a number that somehow makes me feel both happy and uneasy (perhaps reflecting my general state of being right now) has just appeared, like a hidden peak on this hill I’ll be climbing over this year. 

2020 starts with a month left before all change. It starts with a January to bask in the EU we belong to before it begins to be peeled away, not like a sticking plaster but like a TK Maxx label where you manage to get everything removed but the price. 

2020 will see us holding on tight to what keeps us steady - one another - the small things that bring us joy - the moments of hope - the songs that unite - the places that we trust enough to call home. 

2020 for me I hope will see me getting used to this life I’ve been called to.... and I hope will see a bit more stability than the last year has brought. I imagine that it will bring further challenges I have never encountered before as I work with people affected most acutely by austerity measures, uncertainty and the fall out from Brexit. 

2020 sees me climb over the hill, have my name on a book as editor (that’s exciting!) and enter into the pastry section of my gbbo baking challenge. I’m hoping it will see me join a choir and find my identity in the south as a belonger not a temporary incomer whose heart is pulled northwards more often than expected.

2020 is going to be hard. The effects of Brexit are unknown but known to be very much hard work. The effects of our new government are unknown but I believe inevitably challenging as our democracy is picked apart at its very core. The effects on individual lives amongst the uncertainty..... incomprehensible. 

In amongst it all? 

We’ve got to try and stand together. We need to work for unity - to see all people as human and treat them that way. 

We need to become less selfish and more generous. Our tendency in times of uncertainty is to batten down the hatches but 2020 is not a year for that - it’s a year to stand on the hill we’re climbing over and ask where light needs to shine and sticking that lightbulb in to make a difference. 

We must pray, protest, challenge, speak out.... we’re not called to be passive observers in 2020, but to be people who participate - who make places of truth, justice and mercy and belonging that speak Hope in uncertainty and show another way. 

Happy new year. May it be far better than the outlook appears to predict at the end of 2019. 

“But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women. It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbour, be compassionate and loyal in your love, and don’t take yourself too seriously - take God seriously”. - Micah 6:8 (Message version) 

A day like no other

Yesterday was a strange day. It started with the proroguing of parliament being ruled as unlawful (which brought joy in the midst of the morning), I saw a double rainbow just (as always) at about the right moment, I had a couple of conversations I wasn't expecting and caused me to turn to my brilliant network of trustworthy ones for advice and wisdom and then impeachment proceedings were being explored to begin against Trump just before I headed to bed. 

Some days are like that. But also no days are like that. We cannot underestimate the impact of what is going on in politics at the moment in the UK and the rest of the world on what is going to happen in the future. Where we don't think things can get more complicated, more complicated things happen. 

It all seems so big - so uncontrollable, that it affects our very being. How do we live in a world that is full of uncertainty? How do we make plans when we don't know what is going to happen tomorrow, never mind next year? 

We react in different ways - some of us bed in - take control of the things we can control - we make sure our own affairs are in order, take possession of the things that we perceive to matter most and become protective over our own life and space. 'Me first' becomes the mantra, and that affects our relationships with others. In some ways this is a reflection on the causes of the current political climate in the first place - making things better for me means shutting out anything that makes me feel uncomfortable. 

Some of us try to understand - we read - we try to problem solve - we tie ourselves in knots - we protest - we celebrate - we express our frustrations - we begin and join in social media conversations that are like carving through layers of hard rock with a blunt knife and fork. We find ourselves exhausted with the thinking we're doing and we lie down for while, waiting to get up again and find the way ahead. 

Neither of these ways of dealing with stuff completely satisfy. 

Bedding in doesn't mean that the problems go away. Bedding in doesn't help our relationships with others and makes us a little bit too insular. Although it might be comfortable, there is something about what is going on that niggles in our ear however much we try and shut it out. 

Trying to understand doesn't mean we'll ever arrive at understanding and leads to frustration as we discover more complications in the things that seemed simple. Trying to understand doesn't necessarily lead to solutions, and where we are able to make sense of what is going on, the niggle in our ear is that we're too far gone to get to somewhere better and the way out will be impossible to find. 

I've tried both. I've tried hiding from the news and I've tried staying up until 2am watching parliament debate (when it's been allowed to) so I can make sense of it all - but then I get frustrated and want to run and hide again..... we need to keep trying to understand, but we need to take care of ourselves, and so there are times for both - both searching and hiding, and in the search for the balance we'll find moments of peace. 

After the referendum I reflected on my disappointment with the result, and I asked the question 'how do I sing the Lord's song in a strange land?' - a question the Israelites asked when they were in exile in Babylon. I didn't know how but I knew I would not stop singing. 

And I haven't. I'm not going to a choir at the moment because the challenge of moving 252 miles has made finding a choir not the priority it should be, and although I know it would help me deal with all this, I don't feel ready to go there. However, even without those who stand singing with me, my singing has not stopped. 

Because, even in places of despair, there is always hope. Even in the deepest and darkest of places, the light gets in through the cracks. Because when we hear stories of hope - stories of justice being done - stories of love shared abundantly - stories of lives changed - we know that there is a way through, a way that is better beyond where we are now. 

And that is the Lord's song - helping us to know that however bad things get there is always hope. And while it may seems like pie in the sky sometimes and it might sometimes seem like I'm grasping and not catching - I know this hope that I have to be true - and that's what those rainbows, just at the right time, remind me. 

So in these strange days where tomorrow is a mystery and things are just a little bit confusing, hold on to that hope - look for the light, the love, the peace, the justice, the signs of promise, BE that light, that love, that peace - bring justice and depend on God's promises and that - that is what will get us through. 

"But he's already made it plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women. It's quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbour, be compassionate and loyal in your love, and don't take yourself too seriously - take God seriously" - Micah 6:8 (The Message)

The tension of the in-between

Some of the people I know are out protesting today..... and I want to be with them..... but instead I'm at home preparing for our service tomorrow about the Beatitudes, which in many ways are exactly what those who are protesting are protesting for - a way of living and moving forward in our chaotic political world that recognises that those who are most broken are those who need lifting up rather than a way of living that, in an effort to put an end to the Brexit chaos, leaves those who are most broken even more uncertain of what the future will look like. 

I stand with the protesters in mind even if I'm not there in body. I want to feel like I'm doing something. I want to feel like I can be one small cog in the machine that helps this country move forward in a better way - a different way - the way that lifts up the poor and the mourning, the peacemakers and the persecuted...... but I feel helpless right now. 

I worry about what will happen as a result of a no deal Brexit. I worry that the community I live in will feel the effects so hard it will be bigger than a punch in the guts. I worry that we have spent so much time laughing at what we thought was a bumbling buffoon from Eton that we have missed the intelligence of our new Prime Minister carving this path we are hurtling down at the moment. I worry for those I encounter every week who are broken and don't have much right now, for whom the uncertainty of the consequences of a no deal Brexit is another thing that has to be faced in a world that hasn't been very helpful so far.... 

How can we stand up for justice as we head down this path? How can we be more than that feeling of helplessness and despair that rises up every time we watch the news? 

The Northumbria Community Meditation of the day for today could not have come at more of a right time. William Brodrick, monk-author writes that (click on link for whole quote):

We have to be candles,

burning between,

hope and despair,

faith and doubt,

life and death,

all the opposites....

I'm not sure I'm going to ever completely understand how we have got to the place we are today. I'm not going to know what the consequences are until the things actually happen. I want to be shouting with the protesters, making my discontented voice heard. 

What I do know, is that I need to live in the tension that leaves space for lament and presents hope that this is not it. I believe that whatever happens in the coming weeks and months, there is and will be a way out - through changed behaviour, through sacrificial love, through continually drumming in protest against what almost seems inevitable, through laying down what we have so that others can have more, through prayer and lament and most of all through the deep deep love of Jesus who shows and tells us that there is more than this, different to this, a new way that brings hope where there is despair, faith where there is doubt and life where there is death.... and if, as we live in the tension between, we can show even just a little bit of that love - if we can begin to live in the way that Jesus sets out in the Sermon on the Mount, if we can continue to be encouraged to stand up and say this is not right .... we might, just might begin to turn the way it's all heading upside down. 

I cannot tell how silently he suffered
As with His peace He graced the place of tears,
Or how his heart upon the Cross was broken,
The crown of pain to three and thirty years. 
But this I know, He heals the broken hearted,
And stays our sin, and calms our lurking fear,
And lifts the burden from the heavy laden,
For yet the Saviour, Saviour of the world, is here. 

(v2 from the hymn 'I Cannot Tell')

Those moments....

Recycling in hand I went towards the front door and before I got to it I looked out of my living room window and saw a girl getting up from where she had been crouching down just to the left of and in front of my hedge as she had inspected something that she had spotted in the strip of grass that runs between the road and the pavement. As she got up she had something about her that spoke of joy - that spoke of happiness - that spoke of those moments when we simply appreciate what is around us. She had a sparkle about her as she walked on in the early evening sunshine - the sunshine that seems to be more normal here than in anywhere else I have lived. 

And in her hand was the source of her joy - one bright red wild poppy - a weed growing in the right place to be seen as a flower. It sparkled in the sunlight and glowed on her face..... and I longed to feel her moment of joy with her. It made me smile. It made my emotions rise to the surface as I saw the joy she had in God's creation - in that wild poppy - that weed growing in the right place at the right time. 

It was the only poppy in the grass to the left of and in front of my hedge - I went out to look, a little disappointed that there wasn't one for me too. I wanted to hold onto that moment of joy she had, as, after a hard couple of weeks, I am craving a little bit of simplicity, a few moments of that simple pleasure of finding a bright red poppy amongst the grass that really could do with a cut - that bright red poppy that probably wouldn't even exist if the grass had been cut. 

As Trump arrives in the UK and as we are reminded of all the broken relationships that occur because of buildings of barriers and walls; as we hear of another act of violence that leaves someone in a critical condition or even dead; as we hear the horrific stories of people who have been left with nothing because of the brokenness of the Government implementing universal credit; as we face waiting for results and tests and the next dreaded piece of information, we need those bright red poppies that grow in the grass that nobody has cut. 

Because those small moments of joy - they are what keep us going. Those moments of joy when we find ourselves laughing at what seems an inappropriate moment, smiling like a reflex at what we have seen or heard, bursting into song when nobody is listening.... those moments of joy are what bring hope in the most difficult of situations..... those moments of joy show that it is not always going to be like this.... those moments of joy... they sparkle and the shine and they punch holes in the darkness. 

Those moments of joy give us hints of what the Kingdom of God is like - treasure buried in a field that is more than enough to change the world, a tiny mustard seed that grows into something so big the birds can nest in it, yeast that changes the flour so much it becomes the most beautiful loaf of bread, the tiny bit of dark chocolate that makes a chilli into a taste sensation, the little seed from a wild poppy that scatters and becomes the red poppy that brings joy to a girl walking up my road...... 

Look out of the window, because you never know what you will see. Seek out those moments of joy, because however small, they begin to make the challenges of life just a little bit more bearable, and as we collect them, as we gather them, as we share them, as we embrace them, they build up.....and those moments of joy will grow and be scattered amongst the brokenness - making bridges across divides, destroying barriers that stop us in our tracks, comforting those who are mourning, restoring what is shattered and falling..... and pointing the way to the one who promises a day when all of this will be no more. 

Car Park Views.... Advent Pausing.

Tuesday 8.30am

At the back of our church building is a park, a chimney, some trees and a railway line..... 

Well that's what the photos show. 

Ever since I've lived here I have loved the view from the car park. It feels so Ramsbottom - it's speaks of the town's past with the chimney that looks back to the time of the cotton mills the town grew on, and it's steam train line that, before the main train line closed would take people from Ramsbottom north or south, connecting them with people from far afield. It speaks of the towns present with the glimpses of the swimming baths and the park that reflects the attractiveness of the town to young families..... 

And....in a way, it speaks of its future... because as the past is celebrated with the stories of the mills and the steam train and as the present is lived on on the slide and the swings, the trees, they quietly, in their own tree like way grow.... following the rhythm of the seasons, each year growing differently, losing branches and raising their tops a little bit more. 

Thursday 8.30am

I love the view from the car park and often take a photo when the sky is beautiful at dawn or when the snow sparkles in the light of the sun... at Christmas and Easter that view speaks of the new life that Jesus brings.... and when I arrive early for a service, preparing for the day, it lifts me and inspires me to worship. 

There are days, however, when that view is not worth a photo, or is it? Two or three times a week I arrive at the church building about 8.30am and at this time of year, it's as the light is beginning to show.... so this week I decided that I would take a photo every time I arrived about that time and see how the picture changes.... being more attentive even on those days when it is not beautiful to the slow changes and inspiring stillness in the park, the chimney, the trees and the railway line. 

Today (Saturday) 8.30am

This morning, as the 1st December crept up on us, my photo was the least inspiring one yet...grey, dull and rainy.... proper Ramsbottom weather..... but it reminded me, that in advent, as we wait, as we look ahead, as the glitter and the sparkle rises and the momentum builds, that while we walk through life, where not every day brings bright sun or rainbows, that as we plod on, there is a promise that the new dawn will come. 

This advent, perhaps is a time to be more attentive.... not to the stories of the past, which are evident in the chimneys and the train line, nor the stories of the present, which are silent on a grey day as everyone hides inside, but to the stories of the future, which in our distraction, we miss, as the slow changes in the trees in the rhythms of the seasons pass us by..... 

Stop.... look at the familiar view.... what do you see? Where are the glimmers of hope and light in the seeming stillness... in the nothing happening.... that speak of the future that will be?


‘Arise, shine, for your light has come,
    and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.
2 See, darkness covers the earth
    and thick darkness is over the peoples,
but the Lord rises upon you
    and his glory appears over you.
3 Nations will come to your light,
    and kings to the brightness of your dawn'.  Isaiah 60:1-3

Trees and their stumps....

There is not much I like more than sitting and walking amongst trees - particularly this time of year when the colours of the leaves are changing and the autumn sunshine accentuates the oranges and reds and yellows and golds and browns. Every time I look at the frosted glass in a my front door I think there is a light outside because the orange and yellow of my garden hedge shines so brightly. 

As I sit I listen to the sound of the wind through the leaves and it brings peace. As I look and as the leaves wind their way to the ground, I follow the shapes of the branches, which so often demonstrate the beauty of the maths behind the creation. Fractals and chaos, spirals and movement, reaching upwards towards the sky above the canopy of the forest or wood or the tree itself. 

A couple of weeks ago I took my second trip ever to Tatton Park (you have to pay for parking - I can't go too often).... last time I went to Tatton Park it inspired my whole dissertation - it's a dangerous and inspirational place to go. A haven of peace underneath the flight path of Manchester Airport where you can dream of far off places whilst enjoying the beauty of an English country estate. 

It was a beautiful autumnal sunny day so after my obligatory stop for soup and cake I went for a walk in the grounds round the lake, avoiding the stags with large antlers who were making some very strange noises.... and, as always, I was taken in by the trees. 

I stopped to take a photo when in front of me there was a perfectly formed tree. 

I admired its shape, it's almost perfectly fractal growth, how the leaves were almost dropping in formation and how it stood majestic, on its own, proud of the tree it was. It was a the tree that all trees wanted to be, the tree that set an example for all.... perhaps not huge yet, but with great potential for growth. 

As I walked on there were other trees that caught my eye in all their shapes and sizes, tall ones reaching to the sky, shorter ones reaching out to their neighbours, ones that framed the picture beautifully and ones that were almost obscured by the light of the sun. 

But then I came across this one.

A tree?

Surely a 'once was tree' and now a pile of broken branches....?

No, not at all....

As I walked up I noticed that although the tree looked to be on its last legs - it looked like it had been hit by a storm and had fallen apart in the process... it wasn't.... because out of the stump was growing new life. The growth on the picture is not the tree behind, but is directly from within the stump.... new life in the tree graveyard growing in unexpected ways. 

That tree had probably once been the tree that I first saw standing majestic and beautifully shaped, but then the storm had hit, and it broke apart.... 

But then it began to grow again.... 

At times of brokenness.... at times when there appears there is nothing left.... as long as that core remains... there is potential for new growth... growth in unexpected ways.... growth that comes to bring restoration....

Anyone who has heard me preach recently will know that I am, at the moment (well a lot of the time actually) inspired by the prophet Isaiah. Isaiah is a prophet full of hope through times that seem impossibly difficult. Isaiah describes his calling in chapter 6 and how God promises him that even when all is stripped away a stump will remain.... the holy seed.... that stump is a promise that restoration will come.... in God's timing. In God's way. 

As we look at the world around us, and at our own situations in all their brokenness, we should not simply compare these to the tree we used to be and mourn the loss of our branches, we must instead look ahead remembering that it doesn't have to be this way..... the life, death and resurrection of Jesus shows us another way... the best way. There is always hope... and that might be realised and released in unexpected ways and places. 

Just wait and see... 

"A green shoot will Sprout from Jesse's stump, from his roots a budding Branch. The life- giving Spirit of God will hover over him, the Spirit that brings wisdom and understanding, the Spirit that gives direction and builds strength.... each morning he'll pull on sturdy work clothes and boots, and build righteousness and faithfulness in the land"  Isaiah 11:1-5 (The Message) 

Prosperous Planning?

I've become more relaxed when it comes to planning. I realise that when other people are involved they don't necessarily work to my time scale. So when I am planning, I don't always expect people to respond in the way I expect them to respond (if that makes sense!?). I plan in the way I see best, but make the plan flexible enough to be changed when it needs to be. I think there are a number of different types of people when it comes to planning......

Those who have everything planned in meticulous detail - who have a folder of routes and ideas and timetables and find it difficult to deviate from the detail. These people work better with those who just want someone else to make the plan. 

Those who want to collaborate with others when it comes to planning, but then when it comes down to it, get frustrated and end up becoming the one who plans in meticulous detail, but without the folders and the timetables, and with a gentle sniff of flexibility (I think I am this person). 

Those who have a vague plan in their head which only comes out with the right questions. These are often the most frustrating, but come out with some amazing stuff!

Those who plan last minute, are always late and would rather someone tell them what to do until someone tells them what to do. I'm never this person. 

We all seem to have a different view of what it means to make a plan. When you ask 'what's the plan?' each of these different people will have different answers.... from here it is planned out minute by minute to 'wait and see'. 

I've listened to a couple of sermons lately where I've been told that God has a plan for my life, so it's all going to be OK.  I've been told that if my life isn't going to God's plan (ie not going well) then I'm clearly not a good Christian. I've also read a few blogs that have been frustrated about the misuse of Jeremiah 29:11, which was said to a particular people group at a particular time and shouldn't be misused to tell me that God has a plan for my life. 

What I struggle with in this apparent plan of God where I am told that life is going to be rosy is when I see friends who are having a really hard time; who are suffering seemingly needlessly because things haven't worked out and then are told, well it's going to be OK, God has a plan, and it's wonderful. I believe God has a path for me to go on, but I think we've warped this idea of that plan by surrounding it with the phrase 'it'll be OK because......'. 

The thing is Jeremiah 29:11 doesn't talk about things going well right now. It doesn't talk about the Israelites escaping from exile right now. God tells the Israelites, who are stuck in Babylon, to make the best of a bad situation because there is hope in the future. They didn't want to be stuck in Babylon. They didn't want to be there so much they got angry and Psalm 137 was written where the babies of those who have hurt them are smashed against the rocks. This is not the Psalm of a nation who are are happy to be in exile, happy to say, well, it's OK, God has plans, but is the Psalm of a nation who are so frustrated at their situation that they express emotion by wanting to hurt the Babylonians as much as they have been hurt. 

Sometimes when we say, don't worry, it's going to be OK, God has plans, we forget that the people we are saying it to are those who have had everything meticulously planned out but have been thrown into exile. When we see the plight of Christians driven out of their homes in Iraq, we can't imagine saying 'don't worry, Jeremiah 29:11'. 

What this verse does promise the Israelites, however, is that there is hope in the future. They are promised hope in a future where they will prosper. They did eventually make it out of exile, but life was never the same again. For me, that hope comes in Christ, who was sent by God into the world to die so all may be restored - so that all may have eternal life. When we talk about plans we are not talking about life getting better today, or tomorrow. When we talk about plans we are not talking about that deep seated pain an individual has gone through being what God wanted for that person. When we talk about plans, we see hope in the future that there will be a way out of this, that there is hope that there will be a future where there will be no more pain or sickness or death. This is Christian hope. This is the hope that brings to completion the plans of prosperity in Jeremiah 29:11. We might see glimpses of that as we journey through life, but that hope of prosperity is more than a glimpse.  

When Christ came to earth as a human being, he brought God's Kingdom to earth. I believe we are living in a time where God's Kingdom has come through Christ, but that the world has not been fully restored. When we see glimmers of hope, through healing, through reconciliation and through the clear signs of God's love poured down on earth, we see some of that Kingdom. We were told in church this morning that where we stand against what society chooses to do that doesn't reflect God's Kingdom we need to offer an alternative. Where people are fighting we need to seek peace, where people have no food we need to seek to bring food, where people are suffering we need to stand in solidarity with them to bring them out, where Richard Dawkins suggests abortion is better than a child with Downs Syndrome (his words this week have made me so angry) we need to speak out. Every time we do that we bring glimpses of hope, glimpses of God's Kingdom, glimpses of those plans that God has for us. Hope that speaks of this:

"He will settle disputes among great nations. They will hammer their swords ploughs and their spears into pruning-knives. Nations will never again go to war, never prepare for battle again".        Isaiah 2:4

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.

Hope, Anger and Courage

"Hope has two lovely daughters, anger and courage. Anger at the way things are, and courage that they need not remain as they are." - Augustine

I've been really frustrated lately because it's often so difficult to translate words into action. I am deeply passionate about those for who life is unjust, yet the problem is so huge it's often seemingly impossible to see where to start. 

The BBC has a new series on called 'Welcome to India'. While I watched it I considered the things that I saw while I was in Kolkata and it reminded me of how big the task seems when we see so many people who live in the most appalling of conditions and do the kind of jobs we wouldn't dream of doing in the west. As these kind of living conditions and jobs are normal, it's quite easy to accept the idea that it's OK. It's not though, and that is what makes me feel both angry and helpless. 

The quote attributed to Augustine reminds me that anger is good - anger is right when it is righteous anger - anger at injustice, but that without the courage to do anything about it the anger is lonely - it sits and waits but there is no outlet that is for the good. 

So, I want to grow stronger in courage that things don't need to remain as they are, that I can do something that challenges injustice and changes situations and I pray that God will show me and lead me to the places where I can do that.