A tale of two men on Easter morning

As Alan and I hurried to the dawn service in the old cemetery this Easter morning, we chatted about John and Peter running to Jesus’s tomb that first Easter morning.

What were their thoughts? We can only imagine.

John – who called himself ‘the disciple whom Jesus loved’ – had stood at the cross and watched his best friend die a horrible, cruel death. He was perhaps the only one of the twelve disciples who remained with Jesus till the end. As His life blood flowed from Him and His breath got more laboured, Jesus gave John his last mission: to look after His mother. John gratefully accepted this last assignment from the One he loved.

Peter’s last interaction with Jesus had been very different. He was perhaps the only one of the twelve to follow Jesus to His trial, but as he waited in the courtyard, surrounded by those who had not known Jesus, he denied that he had known Him. When the rooster crowed and Jesus turned to look at Peter, he knew he had done what he had sworn he would never do – he had denied his best friend.

Now the two men are running to the tomb, having heard from the women that the tomb is empty. What will they find there? What do they hope for? What do they fear? Scripture tells us that they had not yet understood that Jesus would rise from the dead. John arrives at the tomb first but stands outside. When Peter catches up with him, he goes in – and Jesus isn’t there – just his graveclothes.

We are told that the two men went home. What did they do? What did they think? How could they begin to make sense of it all?

It wouldn’t be long until the risen Jesus appeared to them – and now they understood. John would have been delighted to see Him, to eat the fish He had prepared on a charcoal fire for the disciples’ breakfast on the beach. Peter wasn’t so sure – and Jesus understood that. He took Peter for a walk along the beach and gently and graciously reinstated him. The denial was forgiven. And Peter was able to state three times that he loved Jesus – just as he had denied three times that he knew Him. A new assignment was given: ‘Feed my sheep’.

As Jesus and Peter were walking together, Peter looked behind him and saw John. Turning to Jesus, he asked ‘What about this man?’ And Jesus – always gracious and gentle – replied ‘What is that to you? You follow me.’ Keep on your own track, Peter. Don’t worry about others. Just follow Me.

Peter and John took very different paths. Their experiences with Jesus were very different. Their needs as they ran to the tomb were very different. Their expectations were probably also very different. But Jesus met them both. He loved them both. He gave them both an assignment.

So, wherever we are on this Easter day, whether we feel we are the disciples whom Jesus loves or whether we feel we have failed him (again), Jesus meets us with the good news that He is alive, His love for us hasn’t changed, and He wants us on His team.

Who is this child?

We draw this little devotional series to a close with a glimpse of the child Jesus as he was growing up.

At the age of 12, his parents had taken him to the temple, as they did each year. But, unknown to them, Jesus remained there after they and their family and friends had left for home. Any parent who has lost a child for even a few moments can imagine their anguish as they searched for him for 3 days.

But his response when they found him shed light on the distance which was beginning to separate Jesus from others, even his parents, who couldn’t understand him:

 “Why were you searching for me?” he asked. “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” But they did not understand what he was saying to them.

Of course this was not the only time when Jesus was misunderstood by others. In John 13, when he washed the feet of his disciples, Peter couldn’t take it:

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”

And as he hung on the cross, he cried out to his Father:

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

As we begin a new year, let’s pray for an increased understanding of who Jesus is.

I’m finding help with that in a new devotional book which has been co-authored by Tony Horsfall and others – ‘Knowing you, Jesus’.

Joseph’s pivotal role

Joseph is often pictured somewhere in the shadows in the Christmas narrative.

A friend told me that her son wanted to play Joseph in his school nativity play because he just had to walk round the stage and say nothing.

The reality was that Joseph played a pivotal role in the early years of Jesus.

Having got him safely to Egypt, he was then told to move the family again – back to Israel.

How he decided on the exact location is interesting. He had a dream telling him to go back to Israel: then, when he heard that Herod’s father was king in Judea, he decided not to go there, responding with common sense and also listening to his own fear; and finally another dream confirmed the wisdom of this to him and he decided to go back to their home town of Nazareth.

Joseph was sensitive to the Spirit guiding him through dreams, circumstances and his own feelings.

Parents are entrusted with a huge privilege in guiding their little ones. Sometimes it seems daunting, inconvenient and even dangerous – can you imagine the journeys that this little family had to take without the ease of modern travel?

Ask for sensitivity to the Spirit as you seek to guide your little ones. Let him lead you, as you lead them.

‘So was fulfilled what was said through the prophet, that he would be called a Nazarene.’

Joseph’s commitment and courage

I wonder what Joseph thought when another angel appeared to him in a dream? Which assignment did he find harder – the first, taking the pregnant Mary as his wife? or the second, fleeing to Egypt with Mary and their little child?

What is amazing is that the God who holds the whole world in his hands made himself dependent on a young woman’s obedience and a young man’s courage.

When Joseph committed to the first assignment, it was for life. So when the second assignment came, there was no question of not accepting. He did what he had to do to protect the child and his mother.

Parenthood is still an adventure which includes unimagined privileges and unexpected assignments. Families still need fathers who have the commitment and courage to obey God and to protect their families.

Joseph ‘got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt.’

Look out for Jesus today

We find our way to Jesus through all kinds of ways.

The Magi set out on their journey in response to seeing the star. But then they seem to have lost their way and, perhaps using their own logic, went to Jerusalem to look for the new King.

But God redirected them, this time through the ancient scriptures explained to them by some religious leaders – and they set off for Bethlehem.

When the star reappeared, they were overjoyed. But when they saw Jesus, they worshipped.

And as they set out for home, God again redirected them – this time through a dream.

Look out for Jesus today – God can use unexpected ways and unexpected people to draw us to him.

‘They saw the child with his mother Mary and they bowed down and worshipped him.’

The Shepherd-King

When the Magi went to Jerusalem looking for the new King, they were told he had been born in lowly Bethlehem – ‘for out of you will come a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel’. A ruler who will shepherd my people. Not govern, not rule – but shepherd.

I recently read about someone who had been invited to speak at a conference of missionaries. This is what was said of him: ‘The greatest blessing was that he came not as a preacher, but as a pastor: listening intently, praying, weeping, and rejoicing with each of us.’

That’s just like Jesus. The Shepherd-King. ‘He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.

She communed instead of complaining

Life often doesn’t turn out the way we expected. Anna had enjoyed only 7 years of marriage before losing her husband. When we see her in the temple, she’s 84 – way beyond the average life-expectancy in first century Palestine of less than 40.

But the sadness of her life had not made her bitter – it had led her to a life of dependence on God. She spent her time in worshipping God, praying and fasting in the temple. Instead of complaining about her lot, she communed with God.

From that posture, she recognised the baby whom Simeon had in his arms – and was given words of prophecy to speak over the Christ-Child.

Whatever our age, whatever our social status, whatever our stage of life, we can choose to enjoy intimacy with God.

‘Coming up to them at that very moment, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.’

Over the manger hung the shadow of the cross

A young mother holds her little baby as she gives thanks to God for him and asks for a blessing on him.

As we embark on the journey of motherhood, we cannot imagine the highs and lows before us.

Mary knows her little baby is the Messiah, the promised One who will bring salvation to the world.

But, as he blesses Joseph and Mary, the elderly Simeon tells her something of what this will mean for her.

No doubt she added this to the things she was ‘pondering in her heart’. But it would not be until she stood at the foot of his cross and watched him give his life that she would fully understand the cost of being his mother.

Over the manger hung the shadow of the cross.

‘A sword will pierce your own soul too.’

Hold on to the promise

Deep in Simeon’s heart had been planted a longing to see the promised Messiah. He carried the longing with him every day. It impacted all he did.

Then one day, his longing was fulfilled. The promise was realised. He held the Messiah in his arms. Now he could die happy.

Whatever longing God has planted in your heart, keep looking for it. The shepherds looked for Jesus. So did the wise men. So did Simeon.

Whatever promise has been given to you, hold on to it until it is fulfilled.

‘He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was on him.’

What’s in a name?

Young parents often enjoy choosing a name for their child. Some choose it well in advance; others prefer to wait and see what the child looks like.

Mary and Joseph didn’t have that choice. Even before the child was conceived, the angel told Mary to call him Jesus. And Joseph was told the same thing as he wondered what to do about the pregnancy of his fiancée.

The decision was made for them and their part was to humbly submit to what God was asking them to do. The destiny of this Child was such that each day must have held many such deaths to their own desires. And many such invitations to play their part in God’s plan – not just for them, but for the world.

‘You are to give him the name Jesus because he will save his people from their sins.’

Go and tell

The shepherds hurry off to see with their own eyes what the angels have told them. Once they have seen the Christ-Child, they go and tell others. But Mary ‘treasures up all these things and ponders them in her heart’.

Tony Horsfall, in the beautiful devotional book he has co-written, ‘Knowing you, Jesus,’ makes the point that there is a time to speak and a time to be silent.

So while it’s true that some of us are naturally more talkative and others more reflective, we all need to learn both. Those prone to verbally process need to learn the value of silent reflection. And those inclined to quietly meditate need to learn the value of public expression.

‘The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.’

Is there room in my home?

An Advent tradition in some South American countries sees communities celebrating ‘Las Posadas’ (posada is Spanish for lodging place or inn) in which two young people dressed as Mary and Joseph travel from house to house in their village to proclaim the imminent arrival of Jesus and request that the newborn baby be given a room.

This Advent a knitted Mary and Joseph, together with a donkey, have been travelling to a different home in the parish each night on their journey to Bethlehem – and we got to host them for a night.

It got me thinking.

What if we had lived 2,000 years ago and the real Mary and Jospeh had called at our door during their 80-90 mile trek from Nazareth to Bethlehem? Would we have received them warmly and made space for them in our home?

It’s easy to find fault with those who had no room for them in Bethlehem. And was there really an inn with a mean inn-keeper?

Middle East scholar Kenneth Bailey thinks not. Here is what he says:

“The Greek word translated as inn in Luke 2:7 does not mean a commercial building with rooms for travelers. It’s a guest space, typically the upper room of a common village home…..A simple village home in the time of King David, up until the Second World War, in the Holy Land, had two rooms—one for guests, one for the family. The family room had an area, usually about four feet lower, for the family donkey, the family cow, and two or three sheep. They are brought in last thing at night and taken out and tied up in the courtyard first thing in the morning. Out of the stone floor of the living room, close to family animals, you dig mangers or make a small one out of wood for sheep. Jesus is clearly welcomed into a family home.”

So, when they got to Bethlehem, the city of David, they were welcomed by relatives and stayed in their home. Not in the guest room, for it was already taken, but in the lower space normally reserved for the animals.

But if they had knocked on our door, on their way to Bethlehem, would they have been welcomed in?

Am I ready to welcome unexpected guests….or strangers….or refugees?

Or do I hold my schedule so tightly, and is my home so precious to me, that I don’t want them to be messed up by unexpected events or uninvited guests?

It’s easy to sing heartily ‘There’s room in my heart for Thee’ – but is there room in my home and in my schedule for Jesus today?

‘To you is born…a Saviour’

When one of our daughters took ill overseas, we were so thankful for good friends who visited her.

When the Creator of the universe sent his Son to earth, His first visitors were lowly shepherds.

They heard the message from an angel – ‘good news of great joy for all people’ – the message was for all people, even for shepherds.

But there’s more: the heart of the message was ‘to you (singular) is born this day a Saviour’.

Jesus is born to you and to me – and he is born a Saviour. The angel could have said ‘to you is born a baby who will become a Saviour’. But no. He is born a Saviour. Because that’s who he is. Because in my messiness, in my lostness, in my darkness, that’s what I need.

‘Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you.’

When God’s plan feels messy

Like any new parents, Joseph and Mary would have made preparations for their new baby. Perhaps Joseph had lovingly made a beautiful wooden cradle. Mary would probably have made some baby clothes and blankets.

But, as Tony Horsfall says in his new devotional ‘Knowing you, Jesus,’ Joseph and Mary found themselves in Plan B.

No heavily-pregnant girl would have relished the journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem. No soon-to-be dad would have enjoyed the frantic search for a place to stay.

Their Plan A had become Plan B – and it felt uncomfortable, stressful and unwelcome. Instead of her female relatives around her, Mary had the animals – and probably Joseph’s female relatives. Instead of his beautiful cradle, Joseph found a manger where they laid their little baby.

Of course Plan B was actually God’s Plan A, for it had been prophesied that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem.

We imagine that God’s plan will feel good and we will instantaneously know it is the best. But what if it feels uncomfortable, stressful and messy?

‘While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available to them.’

Dramatic call or daily decisions?

Like Joseph, submitting to God might include a dramatic call to an act of obedience – but it will certainly also include dozens of daily decisions to follow Him.

‘Joseph…did what the angel of the Lord commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. But he did not consummate their marriage until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus.’

Do not be afraid

Have you ever noticed the number of times we read the words ‘Do not be afraid’ in the Christmas story?

When the angel appears to Zechariah in Luke 1, he says ‘Do not be afraid, Zechariah’.

When the angel appears to Mary in Luke 1, he says ‘Do not be afraid, Mary’.

When the angel appears to Joseph in Matthew 1, he says ‘Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid’.

Obviously the appearance of an angel is enough to make any of us afraid. It’s unusual, unexpected – and when unexpected things happen they can cause us fear. I received a text from a friend yesterday which started with the words ‘Nothing urgent or alarming!’ – a reassurance that there was nothing to fear.

But the other obvious thing in the greetings from the angels is that each time, the angel uses the name of the person he has come to: Mary, Zechariah, Joseph. There is something reassuring when someone uses our name. It means we are known. We are not just labels. We are individuals – with our own names. God knows you by name. He knows you better than you know yourself.

We have our own names – but also our own fears. God knew that and he sent an angel to each of these 3 individuals to tell them what was about to happen, and to allay their fears.

We aren’t told exactly what fears Zechariah and Mary had (although we can guess) but the angel tells Joseph: ‘Do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife’. He would have been afraid of public disgrace for Mary – and perhaps of being drawn into that disgrace along with her. He loved the law (and wanted to do the right thing by it) and he loved Mary (and wanted to do the right thing by her). Those two things seemed impossible to hold together, but God showed him what to do.

We tend to focus on Mary. Joseph is in the background somewhere, in the shadows. A friend recently told me that her son wanted to play Joseph in the school nativity play because he just walked around the stage and said nothing. I think that reflects what we think about Joseph. But God treated him as an individual, he sent an angel who called him by name and helped him to address his fears. Life was going to be very different from what he had imagined. Mary was pregnant with her firstborn – but it wasn’t his child. Yet he would provide for him and protect him and love him as his own child.

What are your fears this Christmas time? Like Zechariah, Mary and Joseph, we all have our own fears.

Take time to bring them to God. Name them in his presence. Wait for him to show you what to do. Hear him call you by name as he tells you ‘Do not be afraid’.

The hopes and fears of all the years…

I’ve been mulling over that line of the old carol: ‘The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight’.

What did that mean for Jospeh and Mary? What did it mean for the people of Israel? What does it mean for us today?

1. What were Mary and Joseph’s hopes and fears?

Mary and Jospeh’s hopes were probably pretty normal for a young couple from Nazareth at that time: they hoped to marry, raise a family, have enough from Jospeh’s carpentry business to live on. Their hopes were normal, natural – but so much smaller than the plans God had for them.

Suddenly, their plan A becomes plan B as Mary announces her pregnancy and Jospeh has it in mind to divorce her quietly, to spare her the shame which would no doubt come to her as an unmarried pregnant girl in that place at that time.

Now what were their hopes? They hoped that people would believe their story – unbelievable though it was.

And did they hope that their baby Jesus would deliver his people, in the way that so many did – that he would save them from the oppression of Rome?

What were their fears? That Mary would be stoned to death. Perhaps that Jospeh would be punished as well.

But God crashes into the scene with his plan – Mary will give birth to the Messiah. This was SO much bigger than their plans had been! Abnormal, unnatural – and so much bigger!

They must have feared that they would be ostracised, shamed, isolated.

Did they fear that their baby Jesus would be misunderstood? Did they catch a glimpse of what was ahead for him? Isaiah 53:3 tells us this:

He was despised and rejected by mankind,

    a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.

Like one from whom people hide their faces

    he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.

Did Mary and Jospeh understand this? Did they know this prophecy was about their baby boy?

So what kind of a baby were Mary and Joseph expecting?

An angel had appeared to Mary and had told her that the Holy Spirit would come upon her and she would give birth to ‘the Son of God’. Joseph had been told the same thing by an angel in a dream. But what did they understand by that? We are told more than once that ‘Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart’ Luke 2:19. And when they brought their baby to the temple, Simeon said to Mary: “a sword will pierce your own soul too.” (Luke 2). Joseph and Mary must have known that suffering was part of the journey – for their baby boy and for them. 

2. What about the people of Israel? What were their hopes and fears?

The coming of Jesus had first been promised to Adam and Eve in Genesis 3:15.

His birth—of a virgin in the city of David—had been foretold by prophets centuries before. Micah 5:2 says this:

“But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah,

    though you are small among the clans of Judah,

out of you will come for me

    one who will be ruler over Israel,

whose origins are from of old,

    from ancient times.”

Israel lived under the oppression of the Romans and the people were waiting for the Messiah to come and deliver them. The people lived in fear. Remember when the resurrected Jesus appeared to the two confused disciples on the way to Emmaus and they explained that Jesus had died. They said “we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel.” (Luke 24:21)

So what kind of a Messiah were the people of Israel expecting?

Some were expecting a deliverer from Rome.

Others – like Simeon and Anna – were expecting so much more than that – they were expecting the promised Messiah, the one who would deliver Israel from their sin.

When Simeon saw the baby with Joseph and Mary in the temple, he said this:

     “Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace,

        according to your word; 

     for my eyes have seen your salvation 

         that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, 

     a light for revelation to the Gentiles,

        and for glory to your people Israel.” Luke 2:29-32

And Anna knew too – we read this in Luke 2:38:

And coming up at that very hour she began to give thanks to God and to speak of him to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem.

3. What about us? What are our hopes and fears?

What are you hoping for? What are your greatest longings?

What are you afraid of? What are your greatest fears?

If our hopes and fears really are met in Jesus, what does that mean for us today?

Maybe we are hoping for a Saviour who will answer all our prayers the way we want – like a magic genie.

Maybe we are afraid that God is disappointed with us and we never quite measure up to his expectations of us.

Maybe we are hoping for a benevolent God who will overlook all our sin and tell us everything is OK.

Maybe we are afraid that the good news of the gospel is just too good to be true – maybe it’s true for everyone else but not for us.

Maybe we hope for a Saviour of our sin but we don’t really hope for a friend who cares about our hopes and fears.

As we approach Christmas, we expect to celebrate the coming of Jesus, the Saviour of the world.

So what kind of a Saviour are we expecting?

He is a Saviour who will answer all our prayers – but not always the way we want or expect. He did so much more for Mary and Joseph! 

He is a Saviour who is angry about our sin but who loves us extravagantly, unconditionally and forever. His regard towards us is always one of love. God did so much more than express anger at our sin. Jesus took the anger of God upon himself, so that we would not bear the anger of God – only his love.

The good news of the gospel is so much better than we can imagine. There is nothing we can do that will make him love us more and there is nothing we can do that will make him love us less!

And he is the Saviour of the world – but he is also the friend who cares about all of our hopes and fears.

Our hopes and fears really do meet in Jesus. That is the good news of Christmas. Not just that Jesus came to save us from our sin, but also that he came to deliver us from our worst fears and to give us so much more than our best hopes.

So as we wait in this time of Advent, he invites us to come to him with our longings, our hopes, our desires, those we have often expressed and those we have never expressed.

He also invites us to come to him with our fears, those which have haunted us for years and those which are so new we have hardly yet recognised them.

He knows us intimately. He knows all of our hopes and he knows all of our fears. And he desperately wants to carry them all for us. The hopes and fears of all the years are met in him today.

So come to him, bring your hopes, bring your fears. Name them to him. He is not the baby Jesus lying in a manger, He is the Jesus who went from the cradle to the cross, so that he could take our sins and our sorrows. He came to deliver us from our worst fears and to give us so much more than our best hopes.

Pumpkin patches and grannies

It seemed like a good idea at the time. We were at a popular Pumpkin Patch with one of our daughters and her family. There was so much going on: the place was dotted with pumpkins of all sizes; there were apples to pick and bag and enjoy; balloons to choose from (our grandson asked for a lion, which then seemed to morph into a sword); and of course food and drinks for everyone, ranging from hot dogs to burgers to pizzas, from cold drinks to coffee to hot chocolate.

But the most exciting thing for our 4-year old grandson was the tractor ride. The tractor had a trailer hitched on to it and people were queuing excitedly for a turn. After waiting patiently, it was our turn and we climbed on board. Or at least that was the plan. This 66-year old Nana clambered on board less than gracefully, having misjudged the height of the trailer from the ground. In fact, I pretty much fell on board – fortunately not falling on top of anyone.

At the time, it seemed that not much more than my pride was hurt – it was embarrassing and humiliating. So I was quick to shrug off the attention and enjoy the ride, while clinging on for dear life. It was all worth it when my grandson said ‘This is better than an ice cream!’

When the ride was over, we wandered through the orchards, picking apples, and our grandson chose a pumpkin to wheel around in a little wheelbarrow. But it was not long before I realised that my leg was throbbing and I sat down for a rest. Glancing down, I discovered to my horror that my leg was very badly swollen and blood had seeped through my leggings.

Fast forward to a visit to A&E in the Mater hospital in Belfast. The staff could not have been more helpful and the wait was minimal. Nurses cleansed the wound before asking me to wait for a doctor to take a look at it. The doctor cleansed it again, before declaring that, while the bruising was deep, the gash was not and would just require steri strips. However, he did give me a tetanus injection in my arm – and I’m afraid that has added another pretty colourful bruise to the collection! He promised I would have a scar on my leg but at the ripe old age of 66, that is the least of my worries.

Which brings me to an interesting reflection on the difference between falling and having a fall. I think if my grandson had had a similar experience, he would have fallen. But, at least in some minds, I have had a fall. It’s what older people tend to do. And it’s what they need to avoid doing. So my husband has asked that I no longer climb on tractor trailers. I think he’s wise.

Loss and love

This week I lost a dear friend and trusted prayer partner, one with whom I had spent hours talking, sharing, praying, laughing and crying.

As it happened, I had already a 24 hour personal retreat planned, which provided the time and space I needed to slow down and reflect.

As I coloured in this verse from Isaiah 54:10, I reflected that, while we endure all kinds of losses in this life – the loss of our health, or a job, or a home, or family members or dear friends – we will never lose the love of God.

The ESV renders this verse in Isaiah like this:

“For the mountains may depart
    and the hills be removed,
but my steadfast love shall not depart from you,
    and my covenant of peace shall not be removed,”
    says the Lord, who has compassion on you.

And it got me thinking about a beautiful song we used to sing on summer evangelistic teams in France in the 1970’s and 1980’s:

Quand les montagnes s’éloigneraient, (when the mountains are removed from us,)

Quand les collines chancelleraient, (when the hills totter,)

Quand les montagnes s’éloigneraient, (when the mountains are removed from us,)

Dieu fera tout comme il promet.(God will do as he has promised.)

Mon amour, oui mon amour, (My love, yes my love,)

Ne s’éloignerait point de toi. (will never be removed from you.)

Mon amour, oui mon amour,(My love, yes my love,)

Ne s’éloignerait point de toi. (will never be removed from you.)

It’s just about impossible to think of mountains being removed – they are so much greater than us, so much part of the landscape. But we also find it almost impossible to think of loved ones no longer being a part of our lives – they are so much a part of our existence, we cannot imagine life without them.

Yet, if these things happen, God’s love – his ‘hesed’ love – his steadfast love, his faithful love, his lovingkindness, will never be removed from us. It is here to stay, through all the vicissitudes of life. When we suffer loss – and we will – God’s love is the one thing that remains. It is the firm foundation on which we can base our lives. It is the one constant, the one thing we can depend on.

And there’s more:

“My covenant of peace shall not be removed,”

says the Lord, who has compassion on you.

His shalom, his covenant of peace, the peace which he has promised us, will never be removed from us either.

And who says this? The Lord, who has compassion on us. The Lord who created us, who knows us through and through, who understands our frailty and our fragility, yet who has set his steadfast love on us, called us his own, and makes a covenant of peace with us.

What balm to the grieving soul. What reassurance to the one who is walking through the valley of the shadow of death. When the world as we know it has been shaken, the One who cannot be shaken promises us his steadfast love and his covenant of peace.

Does this mean we won’t feel the pain or grieve the loss? Not at all – when we are injured, we bleed. When we lose someone, we grieve. When Jesus was told about the death of his cousin John the Baptist, he withdrew to a solitary place to spend time on his own. At the tomb of his friend Lazarus, he wept. We weep – but Jesus weeps with us. He walks through the valley with us and his steadfast love will never depart from us.

How do we pray for Ukraine?

We feel powerless, helpless, angry, guilty – a whole gamut of emotions. What do we do with them? How do we turn them into prayer?

Some say we should pray for Putin’s demise. Others say we shouldn’t take sides.

I’m reading a book about lament – ‘Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy’ by Mark Vroegop – it seemed a good time to read it.

The author suggests that there are nine different kinds of laments in the bible and it is helpful for us to use them when we are crying out to God. For the situation we are facing with the war in Europe, it would seem that we need to pray an ‘imprecatory’ lament – a song that longs for the punishment of the wicked. The author says this: ‘When you face injustice and when God’s glory – not just your pain – is your focus, it is appropriate to ask for justice to be done….We can boldly call upon God to act for the sake of justice.’

So, with that confidence that praying a lament like this is actually a biblical way to pray into the situation, here is my prayer:

Father God, Lord Almighty, you are sovereign over all the earth. You created the earth and said that everything you had created was good. You created us to live on the earth, to worship you and to enjoy you forever.

Forgive us, Lord, for the mess we have made. We have ruined the earth which you made, through our own selfishness. We have thrust other nations into poverty because of our greed. And we have created wars and hostility through hatred, jealousy and a thirst for power.

Lord, now we are in the middle of a war in Europe and we are crying out to you.

Mothers and children are being killed as they try to flee to safety. Lord, have mercy!

Patients on hospital beds are being bombed. Lord, have mercy!

People are hiding in underground shelters for fear of their lives. Lord, have mercy!

The elderly and infirm are being carried on stretchers across unsafe bridges, in an effort to reach safety. Lord, have mercy!

People are starving and freezing, afraid that help will come too late. Lord, have mercy!

Young men, barely 18 years old, are being sent to a war they don’t understand. Lord, have mercy!

Families have been torn apart and don’t know if they will ever be reunited. Lord, have mercy!

Thousands of people have been displaced and are homeless. Lord, have mercy!

Lord, we hardly know what to pray. We feel helpless, powerless, but we also feel angry.

Yet, Lord, you are the God who sees. Lord, you see the devastation. You see each individual. Each one is known by you and loved by you. You are the God who hears. You hear the cries of the suffering. And you are a God who loves justice. You are more angry than we are.

How long, Lord, will you look on?

My whole being will exclaim,
    “Who is like you, Lord?
You rescue the poor from those too strong for them,
    the poor and needy from those who rob them.”

Lord, you have seen this; do not be silent.

Make them like tumbleweed, my God,
    like chaff before the wind.
As fire consumes the forest
    or a flame sets the mountains ablaze,
so pursue them with your tempest
    and terrify them with your storm.
Cover their faces with shame, Lord,
    so that they will seek your name.

May they ever be ashamed and dismayed;
    may they perish in disgrace.
 Let them know that you, whose name is the Lord—
    that you alone are the Most High over all the earth. Amen

The words in italics have been taken from Psalms 35 and 83, both of which are imprecatory Psalms. They give us words when we have no words. They allow us to pray for the punishment of the wicked.

Tish Harrison Warren, who wrote a piece for ‘Christianity Today’ entitled ‘Go ahead. Pray for Putin’s demise,’ says this:

‘If you’re like me and you gravitate to the seemingly more compassionate, less violent parts of Scripture, these kinds of prayers can be jarring. But we who are privileged, who live far from war and violence, risk failing to take evil and brutality seriously enough.

‘I still pray, daily and earnestly, for Putin’s repentance. I pray that Russian soldiers would lay down their arms and defy their leaders. But this is the moment to take up imprecatory prayers as well. This is a moment when I’m trusting in God’s mercy but also in his righteous, loving, and protective rage.’

Unseen heroines on International Women’s Day

On this International Women’s Day I want to celebrate all of the women who are largely hidden from public view right now, often unappreciated, but plodding on day after day in sacrificial service, in constant commitment to the task before them.

Often they don’t know where to find the energy for another day, but they do. Often they are awakened during the night, but they keep going. Day after day and night after night.

They are, of course, the mothers of young children. As a mother of two of them, I want to say I see. I want to say I know. I want to say I appreciate what you are doing.

And more than that, as God said to Hagar, a pregnant woman who had run away to the wilderness, he sees. And he knows.

‘Long Days of Small Things’ is a good description for what young mums are doing. If you can get your hands on this book, buy it. If you know a young mum, buy it for her.

Here are a few excerpts:

‘Breast milk is free only to the extent that a mother’s time and body are not valuable. Breast milk is extremely costly….

‘It is so easy to lose ourselves in the repetition of service that goes unnoticed and unthanked…

‘In nurturing our children we walk in God’s footsteps, just as we did in creating new life.’

How can we live our ordinary everyday lives?

How do we navigate this strange new world of Covid, a war between Russia and Ukraine, and still keep living our normal everyday lives? I think we are all asking similar questions.

How do we cope with the news?

None of us can cope with news 24/7 – but we can feel guilty if we switch off. Decide on how much is good for you to keep you updated, make sure you are getting news from reputable sources, and then try to limit it to that – don’t scroll through news channels at other times. (You may need to turn off notifications on your tablets to achieve this.)

We can’t survive on a diet of bad news, so we need to feed our minds with positive things in order to balance the bad news we are dealing with on a daily basis. Don’t feel guilty about reading a good book, appreciating beauty or enjoying a coffee with a friend. One of the things which helps me most when I’m struggling with all the negative stuff is to feed my mind with Scriptures like Psalm 46:

God is our refuge and strength,
    an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
    and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
    and the mountains quake with their surging.

He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
    I will be exalted among the nations,
    I will be exalted in the earth.”

How do we deal with the feelings of helplessness?

The news is overwhelming, the needs are huge and we can easily feel helpless. But there are things we can do so it is important to do some of those things and not focus on what we cannot do. Few of us are on the ground in Ukraine or even in neighbouring countries where we can welcome refugees. But there are so many ways we can help those who are. And if each of us does something, that will make a huge difference.

Choose an organisation which you have confidence in, or people that are known to you, and find out what they need and donate (goods or funds) to them. When trying to decide how to respond, I found this article helpful. It explains why it is almost always more helpful to give funds than goods in humanitarian crises.

Here are three organisations which are asking for help, with links to them:

Tearfund

British Red Cross

Samaritan’s Purse

We have friends from N.Ireland – Timothy and Rhoda Sloan – who have been working in Ukraine for years and are now feeding hot meals daily to anyone who comes to their church, as well as paying a local shop to give free coffees and hotdogs to the military. Their son is collecting donations (both funds and goods) for them so if you would like to be a part of what they are doing, you can give via this PayPal account: https://www.paypal.com/pools/c/8HLITzm2eM or if you want to donate goods, send an email to: westandwithukraine2022@outlook.com

How do we talk to children about the war?

As with any important topic, it depends on their age. Talk to them in a way which is appropriate for their age. Don’t lie to them, but don’t tell them more than they can handle. Save the Children UK have put together these handy tips on how to talk to children about war.

How do we carry on our everyday lives?

Whether it is enjoying the spring sunshine or getting together with family or friends or just going about our ordinary everyday lives, we can feel guilty because we see images of what everyday life is like for many people living in Ukraine. But we are not there and our feelings of guilt will not help them. While we must not forget them, we also must carry on our everyday lives, in a way which keeps us and those around us healthy. So do the things which are life-giving, take a walk in the sunshine, give your friend some flowers, look after yourself and your loved ones. Now more than ever, this is important.

How do we cope if we are struggling with it all?

The weight of war is overwhelming. The fear and anxiety it causes are more than we can bear. It is really important to talk to each other, in order to keep perspective, but also to be honest about how we are coping. And to seek professional help if we need it. It is not helpful to compare yourself with others – for example, to rebuke yourself for feeling overwhelmed when people in Ukraine are dealing with a lot more than you are. We are all carrying our own particular load – and if it becomes too much for us, we need to reach out for help. Talk to a friend, a pastor or a counsellor.

Our friends at Kintsugi Hope are offering Patrick Regan’s books at cost price during the month of March:

In Bouncing Forwards, Patrick draws on his own journey of making peace with his ongoing anxiety, to look honestly and vulnerably at the temptation to wait for the day when all will be well whilst missing out on what’s happening in the here and now. Exploring resilience, acceptance and emotional agility, Patrick shows how we can find meaning in some of life’s toughest moments and the hope to journey on.

In ‘When Faith gets Shaken,’ Patrick explores how we find God in times of suffering. He wrestles with how we can know God’s peace when life is anything but peaceful, what the true nature of courage is, how we allow ourselves the grace to rest when we’re running on empty, and how we can stay fully present in the moment – all so we can ultimately grasp the love of God at a deeper level.

Don’t underestimate the power of prayer

Prayer is a comfort to us and to those we pray for. I have found Malcolm Duncan’s prayers on social media very helpful as I struggle to put my thoughts into words. Here is one of them:

Prince of Peace, grant peace we pray.

Do not let us turn our eyes away from this.

Despite the fact that we cannot make sense of it,

do not let us avert our gaze.

Remind us of the terrible truth that aggression is never just an idea.

It is an act that dehumanises someone,

and attempts to reduce them to an idea

or a distant thing.

Prince of Peace, grant peace we pray.

Though tears blur our vision,

Anger blurs out thinking

And sorrow breaks our hearts,

Do not let us refuse to feel.

Remind us that Ukrainian mothers are just like our mothers.

Remind us that Ukrainian fathers are just like our fathers.

Remind us that Ukrainian sons and daughters are just like our sons and daughters.

And remind us that Russian parents and children and siblings are grieving tonight for those they have lost in a war they do not even know about.

Remind us that sorrow and mourning are not limited by borders and flags.

Prince of Peace, grant peace we pray.

We hold before You those whose lives are falling apart.

We hold before You those whose land is crumpled under the pounding of artillery.

We hold before You those whose hearts are crushed.

We hold before You those who have lost hope.

We hold our fragile, sinful, broken world before You.

We hold our own fragile, sinful, broken lives before You.

We hold each other before You.

Prince of Peace, grant peace we pray.

Prince of Peace, grant peace.

Prince of Peace, You are our peace.

Lord, hear our prayer.

Where is God in the week after Christmas?

‘What day is it?’ ‘What’s going on?’ ‘What time is it?’ ‘What am I supposed to be doing?’ are some of the questions we ask during this week between Christmas and New Year. Christmas has come and gone. All the hype is over. But New Year has not yet come. For many, there’s a sense of ‘let down’. And, if we are honest, there can also be a sense of foreboding – especially with all the unknowns we now live with on a daily basis.

Christmas hasn’t been all tinsel and toys. I have a friend who received an unexpected diagnosis just before Christmas and has been in hospital ever since. Another friend is struggling with a frustrating recovery from surgery. And another is – still – wrestling with long Covid. Of course there are also many who have been thrust into self-isolation during this holiday period, when they have just longed to be with family and friends.

Cancelled plans. Dashed hopes. Unfulfilled expectations. Unexpected news. How do we manage them?

Bury your head in the sand

Just pretend it isn’t happening. To use the Christian cliche, insist that ‘It’s all good’ – when all around you is collapsing. I hope it’s obvious that this isn’t helpful – nor honest.

Go with the flow

Just take everything that comes, accept the unacceptable, with the philosophy ‘that’s life’. While this might appear helpful, it avoids any serious attention to how you feel or what you are thinking.

Invite God into your situation

It is much more helpful to be honest about what’s happening, how you are feeling, what you are thinking – to talk to God about it and to allow him to remind you of who he is the midst of it all. One of my friends referred to above says she is ‘seeking God in these times and allowing him to minister to my disappointment’. Another one told me she is learning that she can know the peace of God alongside the human anxiety that comes with her situation.

But what does that look like? Does God have anything to say to me in my disappointments and longings? Does God have anything to say to me in this week in between?

The name ‘Immanuel’ means ‘God with us’. We have heard it again and again during December:

‘The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel’

(which means ‘God with us’). Matthew 1:23

The miracle of Christmas is that God came to live among us – but he came to stay! He doesn’t disappear with the tinsel and the tree. He will be here all year. There used to be a campaign to make sure that people who bought a dog for Christmas wouldn’t abandon it afterwards. The slogan was ‘A dog is for life – not just for Christmas’. Well, without trivialising it, God is for life – not just for Christmas. Jesus Christ has come to stay with us!

And that means I can bring all my cancelled plans, dashed hopes, unfulfilled expectations and unexpected news to him.

Talk to him about how you feel. Tell him what you think. And allow him to remind you of who he is in the midst of it all.

Immanuel – God with you – for life, not just for Christmas.

Sweet and Sour Chicken

Combine in bowl for marinade:

1 egg, beaten

1 tbsp sugar

1 tbsp soy sauce

Add to marinade and let stand for 20-30 minutes:

450g chicken pieces

Prepare and set aside:

1 clove garlic

1 tsp finely chopped ginger root

1 green pepper, cut in chunks

1 onion, cut in wedges

1 tomato, cut inn wedges

1 can (435g) pineapple chunks (reserve juice)

Combine and set aside:

3 tbsp vinegar

3 tbsp brown sugar

1 tbsp cornflour

2 tbsp soy sauce

pineapple juice reserved from can

Heat in a wok or skillet:

4 tbsp oil

Dredge chicken pieces in cornflour and fry on all sides until brown. Remove from wok and keep warm.

Stir-fry garlic, ginger, peppers and onions 2-3 minutes.

Add tomato chunks, pineapple chunks and sauce ingredients.

Cook just until sauce thickens and clears.

Return chicken to wok, heat to bubbling and serve immediately with hot rice.

Book review: A Loving Life

They say that love makes the world go round and yet we all seem to struggle to know how to love well. Our relationships can be rocky, our friendships can be fraught and when we are honest enough to look within, we know that we are responsible for at least 50% of the struggle.

Some readers will be familiar with Paul Miller’s book ‘A Praying Life’, but perhaps fewer readers will know that he also wrote this book: ‘A Loving Life in a world of broken relationships’.

Paul Miller takes a fresh approach in pointing us to the Old Testament book of Ruth as a guide. He explains why:

‘The book of Ruth is an ideal narrative for our post-Christian world, where breaking covenants – not enduring in love – is the new norm. Ruth offers a template for love that understands both the craziness of our modern world and a way forward. Ruth is all about surviving and thriving in a collapsing world.’

Lest you think this is a feel-good romance, be assured that Paul Miller tackles themes like embracing relationship, enduring rejection, cultivating community and reaching out to the unlovable.

‘This is the most honest, timely and helpful book I’ve ever read about the costly and exhausting demands of loving well. And at the same time, ‘A Loving Life’ is the most faithful, alluring and encouraging presentation of God’s love for us in Jesus I’ve fed on in years.’

Scotty Smith, author of ‘Everyday Prayers’.

Book review: Liturgy of the ordinary

If you have ever felt even a tiny bit uncomfortable with making a distinction between the ‘secular’ and the ‘sacred’; if you have longed to be able to integrate the spiritual side of your life with the rest of it; then this book is for you.

The book goes through a day – a normal, everyday day – which could be a day in a week of anyone. From making her bed to brushing her teeth to checking her emails to sitting in traffic, the author demonstrates in easily accessible language and with not a little amount of humour, how we can connect these mundane routines to spiritual practices as well as to an aspect of Sunday worship.

Tish Harrison Warren draws from her experience as a campus minister, Anglican priest, friend, wife and mother, to help her apply theology to everyday life.

‘This beautiful book will brush the dust from your dingy days and reveal the extraordinary that is to be found in the ordinary’.
Karen Swallow Prior

Book review: Deep calls to Deep

This review starts with a confession: I started reading this book in 2020 so it is not strictly my first read of 2021 – but it is the first book I have finished in 2021!

Sub-titled ‘Spiritual formation in the hard places of life,’ the book draws on selected Psalms to encourage us all in our walk with God, but especially those of us who are going through hard places – or those of us who have been through hard places and are trying to make sense of them. And doesn’t that cover most of us?

Each chapter on a selected Psalm is followed by a chapter telling the story of someone who has proved God in the hard places of their life. The book includes material for group discussion.

The author, Tony Horsfall, is a gifted, sensitive communicator and in this book he strikes a perfect balance between teaching and practical application, which beautifully demonstrates the truths of Scripture.

What can I bring Him?

Waiting doesn’t come naturally to most of us. From the small child in the back of the car asking ‘Are we nearly there yet?’ to the nine-month-pregnant mum wondering if her baby is ever going to come, to the elderly person in their twilight years, feeling weary and done, waiting to be called home.

In December 2020, I tried to be intentional about the Advent season. I wanted to learn what it was like to wait in the cold, dark days of December for the coming of the Christ-child, instead of rushing headlong to the celebration of Christmas. I still find waiting hard.

On Monday 4 January, we were, of course, approaching Epiphany, when we celebrate the coming of the wise men to visit Jesus, bearing their gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh. I was wondering what gift I could bring to the Christ-child – and I found myself waiting again. This time it was for another birth – the birth of my third grandchild.

As I sat and waited for news from my son-in-law, praying that all would be well and recalling the comfort of Psalm 131 the previous time my second daughter was in labour, sun streamed into the room, creating a fascinating mix of sun rays and shadows.

In the foreground, I could see a clock – a symbol of time. The minutes were ticking by – ever so slowly – as my daughter gave birth to her baby, as I waited, as I wondered if all was well. And I recalled Advent, that period of waiting from which we had just emerged. Mary had waited; so had Joseph; and Anna; and Simeon, along with countless others down through the ages who had waited for the promised Messiah to come.

Immanuel – God with us – in time.

And in the back of the picture, I could see the shadows of hearts – symbols of love. That first Christmas, Love came down to earth. Love came to redeem us from our sin and from our suffering. Love in the shape of Jesus, the Son of God, given for us.

Jesus – God saves us – in love.

Soon my waiting was over and the news came through that we had a beautiful new grandson. His name is Theo – or Theodore – which means ‘gift of God’. God has given us so many good gifts.

What can I bring Him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.

If I were a wise man, I would do my part.

Yet what I can, I give Him – give my heart.

(From ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’ by Christina Rossetti)

Lockdown returns

As many countries all over Europe face greater restrictions due to Covid 19 – and N.Ireland enters a 6-week lockdown – this Christmas gift of a book of Priscilla Reid’s poetry is so welcome. (Copies of the book can be ordered from http://www.PaulPriscillareid.com and you can hear Priscilla read some of her poems here.

Here is a poem called ‘Covid 19’ which Priscilla wrote in March 2020, at the beginning of our first lockdown. It is just as relevant for us today:

My world is shrinking rapidly,

Yet our macros world is far reaching.

The trouble you face, comes quickly

To my door and like the big bad wolf,

Hammers and demands an entrance.

And I become a fearful child, quaking,

Lest he finds a loophole in my defences.

The walls are closing in and social interaction

Is forbidden, so isolation’s icy fingers

Reach out to freeze me in its grip.

But in the squeezing I come face to face

With you, the one I often miss in larger life.

Then, like Alice, when I eat your bread,

Instead of shrinking, there is fresh green growth,

With promise of a fruitful season yet to come.

The waiting is over

It’s Christmas Day at last! We have waited all through Advent for this day. We have looked forward to it. We have longed for it. Perhaps more so this year than any other year.

Today we celebrate the coming of the Christ-child to the manger in Bethlehem – the day which changed the course of history, the day which brought Light into our darkness, Life into our death, Hope into our hopelessness, Healing into our brokenness, Salvation into our sinfulness.

I want to share this beautiful poem by Luci Shaw, called ‘Kenosis’, because for me it manages to express the humanity of baby Jesus and yet it also looks forward to his life and death as the Saviour of the world.

In sleep his infant mouth works in and out,

He is so new, his silk skin has not yet

been roughed by plane and wooden beam

nor, so far, has he had to deal with human doubt.

Heis in a dream of nipple found,

of blue-white milk, of curving skin

and, pulsing in his ear, the inner throb

of a warm heart’s repeated sound.

His only memories flow from fluid space.

So new he has not pounded nails, hung a door,

broken bread, felt rebuff, bent to the lash,

wept for the sad heart of the human race.

Advent

I didn’t grow up with a liturgical background so Advent was not something which featured in our church calendar. Over the years, it became the time for us to light our Advent candles at home and in church – and that was more or less the extent of it.

Now I realise that there are many people all over the world who intentionally take this time to reflect on the first coming of Jesus and what it really meant to the people of God – and the world – at that time.

Not only that, but as Malcolm Guite says in his book ‘Waiting on the Word’, we don’t only think about “Christ’s first coming ‘to visit us in great humility’ in the manger of Bethlehem….and Christ’s second coming ‘in his glorious majesty’……But between this beginning and this end there are many other advents.” Christ comes to us every day in the big moments of our lives and in the mundane moments of our lives.

So how can we use this time to become more attentive to Him?

This year, I am really excited to have received the Sacred Ordinary Days year planner, which is a tool to help us go deeper in our relationship with God, giving us resources for, and pointing us to, spiritual practices like the prayer of examen and sabbath-keeping.

Here are some of the ideas they give us for Advent:

• Use an Advent wreath, lighting a candle each Sunday

• Display a nativity scene in your home, adding new pieces each week of Advent

• Create an Advent calendar

• Take walks in the dark to connect with the theme of waiting in darkness for the light

• Adopt a silent practice, such as centring prayer or praying with a finger labyrinth

• Decorate your home slowly and incrementally through the season

• Listen to music with minor chords, slow rhythms, and themes of longing or proclamation – Sacred Ordinary Days have a helpful one on Spotify

Whatever you choose to do, I hope you have a meaningful Advent season as you prepare to welcome the Christ-child.

We are invited to a feast – no masks required!

Advent is just around the corner, when we prepare for the coming of the Christ-child.

I recently read the parable of the ten virgins in Matthew 25 and was struck by the call that went out at midnight:

‘Here is the Bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’

Matthew 25:6

That is in many ways the call of Advent – ‘Christ is coming! Come out to meet him!’

We are invited to the feast!

Of course the parable speaks of 5 ‘foolish virgins’ and 5 ‘wise virgins’. What made the difference? The wise women had prepared for the coming of the bridegroom – they had brought extra oil for their lamps. So they were ready for his coming, whereas the foolish women weren’t. While the foolish women went to look for oil, the bridegroom arrived and the wise women went in with him to the wedding feast – and the door was shut.

We are invited to the feast! Jesus wants us to enjoy the feast with him, to share the joy of his coming, to celebrate with him. There will be no masks, no social-distancing, no Covid regulations.

Let’s be ready!

What can we do during the period of Advent to prepare ourselves for his coming?

A lament for today

Today the Covid 19 death toll has passed one million, worldwide.

I don’t know what to do, except lament.

I don’t know what to do, except pray.

I don’t know what to do, except put a candle in my window.

How long, O Lord? Will you forget us forever?
    How long will you hide your face from us?
How long must we take counsel in our souls
    and have sorrow in our hearts all the day?
How long shall our enemy be exalted over us?

Consider and answer us, O Lord our God;
    light up our eyes, lest we sleep the sleep of death,
lest our enemy say, “I have prevailed over them,”
    lest our foes rejoice because we are shaken.

But we have trusted in your steadfast love;
    our hearts shall rejoice in your salvation.
We will sing to the Lord,
    because he has dealt bountifully with us.

Psalm 13 (adapted)

List your losses or count your blessings?

So the easing of Covid restrictions in N.Ireland has been halted. Or restrictions here have been increased. Either way, it feels like we are going backwards.

For us personally, it means that we can no longer have both our daughters and their families in our home at once. And in the last two days, I have deleted two more events from my calendar for the autumn.

• 

‘Either…or’ or ‘both…and’?

You could say that we should be grateful that we are healthy. And not grieving the loss of a family member. And we have work. And we have food on our table. And a roof overhead. And we are. We are deeply thankful for all of these things.

But here’s the thing. It’s not ‘either or’. It’s not either be sad or be happy. It’s not either list your losses or count your blessings. It’s not either the glass is half empty or it’s half full.

For when the glass is half empty, it is also half full. It’s ‘both and’. I am thankful for all I have – and I mourn the loss of what has been taken away.

Let’s be honest!

As Christians we can be so keen to get to gratitude that we fail to process our grief. It’s OK to take the time to lament. In fact, it’s honest, authentic and emotionally healthy. It’s also biblical. How many psalms are psalms of lament?

‘God doesn’t call us to avoid or squash our emotions (as Christians often suppose). Neither does he call us to embrace them unconditionally (as our culture often urges). Rather, he calls us to engage them by bringing our emotions to him and to his people,’ writes Alasdair Groves in a brilliant article on the subject.

If the whole subject of lament interests you, the book ‘Deep clouds, deep mercy’ by Mark Vroegop is a really helpful resource, helping us to see that ‘Lament is how you live between the poles of a hard life and trusting God’s goodness’. 

Listen to your feelings

So let’s be honest about our feelings. Our feelings were given to us by God and we need them to help us deal with the circumstances of our lives. But let’s also learn to listen to them, to express them and to regulate them.

I come across a lot of people who are struggling to know how to express and regulate their emotions. It’s not something that my generation, by and large, was taught. Maybe you were taught that ‘children should be seen and not heard’. Or maybe you picked up that you just didn’t talk about your emotions. For many Christians, it can lead to a disconnect between their faith and their everyday lives. On one hand, they believe the truths of scripture – but on the other hand, they know the reality of their own lives.

So, for example, someone is grieving the loss of a friend but they know that the bible says ‘Be thankful in all circumstances’. Or someone is really worried about a medical diagnosis but they know the scripture ‘Be anxious about nothing’. How do we connect our faith with our feelings?

It begins with acknowledging our feelings – to ourselves and to God. Don’t be afraid to talk to God when you are sad or anxious or angry. In fact, those are the times when we really need to talk to God. And if you need help to find the words, use a psalm of lament – or why not write your own psalm of lament?

The ancient Prayer of Examen is a really helpful spiritual practice which helps us connect our faith with our feelings. Basically, it is a way of coming to God at the end of the day (or the end of a week or a term or a year) and reviewing the day with God – replaying the video tape in our minds, allowing ourselves time to notice what we were feeling, how we were reacting at different points of the day, when we were aware of God’s presence and when we weren’t. Stephen Smith at The Potter’s Inn has suggested this adaptation of the Prayer of Examen:

1. Become aware of God’s presence.
2. Review the day with gratitude. 
3. Pay attention to your emotions.
4. Choose one feature of the day and pray from it.
5. Look toward tomorrow.

Why not try it?

Ten years on…

Faith, hope and love, the bible talks about – and so will I, though I will upset the order a little bit, if that’s OK. I’m certain it would have been OK with Isobel.

My sister-in-law Isobel passed away ten years ago today.

Faith

Her faith was important to her. It was always practical. She lived out her faith. It was faith in God that sent her to Marseille to serve God there and it was faith in God that brought her back to serve God in Scotland. It was also faith in God that upheld her through her battle with cancer.

Love

Isobel loved people. She loved her family, she loved her husband, she loved her kids, she loved her grandkids and she loved her friends. I got to know her as a friend first of all, when she came to stay at El-Nathan, the home for missionary children which my parents ran at the time. Then she became my sister-in-law when she married my brother Paul in the same year that I married Alan. And then the bond grew closer when for 17 years they lived in Marseille and we lived in Geneva. As often as we could, the two families met up and enjoyed many great breaks together. We also got to work together occasionally on GLO teams. Isobel and I looked after the kids and she was responsible for cooking for the team. Nothing phased her as she served the people she loved. 

Hope 

Isobel had a firm hope in the God she trusted and loved. Nowhere was this more demonstrated than during her illness. And it was proclaimed at her thanksgiving service when we sang these words:

There is a hope that stands the test of time,

That lifts my eyes beyond the beckoning grave,

To see the matchless beauty of a day divine

When I behold His face!

When sufferings cease and sorrows die,

And every longing satisfied.

Then joy unspeakable will flood my soul,

For I am truly home.

Isobel left a powerful legacy for all of us who knew her and loved her. 

How are you surviving?

Living through a pandemic is like living through grief.

As in grief, it comes in waves. Sometimes you feel OK and then another wave crashes around you – a trigger, a memory, a newsflash – something which reminds you that life as you knew it has changed forever.

As in grief, everyone reacts in different ways. Some of us find solace in looking at photos of the children and grandchildren, reminding ourselves of the good old days and looking forward to the future; others find that is just a sad reminder of what we have lost.

As in grief, there may be many aspects to our loss: loss of freedom, loss of routine, loss of community, loss of work, loss of health – and for some, tragically, loss of life.

As in grief, we have to learn how to navigate this ‘new normal’: how do we live alone without the option of seeing anyone any time soon? how do we live with our spouse and/or our close family members without the option of a break from each other? how do we learn to shop for a week – or 2 weeks – at a time? how do we learn new hobbies or new skills to occupy our time? how do we learn to work from home? how do we occupy small kids who can’t get out apart from once a day? how do we learn to homeschool older kids? how do we maintain contact with elderly relatives who may not know how to use modern technology? how do we live without sport? how do we live without the entertainment we are used to? how do we do church without seeing each other? how do we learn to use WhatsApp video or Zoom or FaceTime or Skype?

As in grief, there are stages. I read an article this week by Aisha Ahmad, who is an assistant professor of political science at the University of Toronto and she suggests there are 3 stages:

Stage No. 1: Security – when we should ‘focus on food, family, friends, and maybe fitness’.

Stage No. 2: The Mental Shift – when we should ‘focus on real internal change. These human transformations will be honest, raw, ugly, hopeful, frustrated, beautiful, and divine.’

Stage No. 3: Embrace a New Normal – ‘do the easy tasks first and work your way into the heavy lifting….work toward establishing your serenity, productivity, and wellness under sustained disaster conditions.’

All of this helps to explain why so many of us are discovering that, with the best will in the world, we have not managed to do many of the things on our ‘to do’ lists. We thought this enforced time at home would allow us to catch up with reading/do our spring cleaning/sort through all our photographs/write a book etc etc – and instead many of us find ourselves struggling to get through the day.

There is a heaviness. I think it comes from all of the above. It also comes from the sheer size of the problem. It is a pandemic, a global crisis. There is nothing we can do about it. It’s heavy.

So be kind to yourself – and to one another. Let yourself off the hook. What you don’t do today, you can do tomorrow, or the next day, or the next day…. Do something for pleasure, without feeling guilty – every day. Do something to bring someone else pleasure – every day. You will find other suggestions for how to look after yourself here.

And slow down. Life feels like it has slowed away down, like a movie whose speed has been slowed. But we want to turn the speed up again. How many times have you caught yourself thinking ‘I’d better hurry up with this’ only to remind yourself that you have no need to hurry – you have plenty of time? Let’s enjoy the slower pace. Take the time to colour in a picture for your grandchild, or to bake a cake just for the fun of it, or to look through an old photo album.

Doesn’t this sound like the grief process:

‘Denial only serves to delay the essential process of acceptance, which will allow us to reimagine ourselves in this new reality. On the other side of this journey of acceptance are hope and resilience.’ Aisha Ahmad

Paul and Priscilla Reid are chatting regularly online about their experiences of lockdown and recently they talked about God being ‘the God of all grace’ (I Peter 5:10) – the grace we need for ourselves and the grace we need to extend to each other in these days.

‘Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.‘ Hebrews 4:16

Strange times

These are strange times. Supermarket shelves are empty. City streets are quiet. Public events are being cancelled. Countries are on lockdown. it feels like we are sitting waiting……for what?

Your perspective to a large extent depends on your age and the state of your health.

Young people who are healthy are tempted to wonder what all the fuss is about. Some are brazenly disregarding the Public Health Advice. No doubt many think this is much ado about nothing. They are waiting for it all to blow over.

For the first time, my husband and I find ourselves in the category of those who are a bit older and have health issues to think about. It’s a sobering place to be. And with that realisation comes a lot of questions: what are reasonable precautions? how can we put in place measures that will protect us and our loved ones and be sustainable? It could be a long wait till it’s all over.

But it helps me to think of everyone else who is in this category. Pastor Andrew Roycroft has written a brilliant blog here – let me just quote from it:

There are brothers and sisters in Christ to whom you might have spoken last Lord’s Day whose faith in the Lord’s providence is strong, but whose apprehension at what a wildfire virus might mean for them is valid. There are those in active service in their jobs and in their church who know that their everyday knife-edge is sharpened with every diagnosis in their district, for whom mortality statistics toll a bell rather than sounding a fanfare. There are elderly people in our midst who will soon need to decide between running the gauntlet of failing physical health through exposure to visitors, and failing mental health through isolation from society. To fire a salvo of Psalms at such people is pastorally naive, and quite possibly self-centred, as we will not invest our interaction with them with the empathy needed to see that sometimes the tightrope of daily discipleship is strung between faith and fear.

It’s not helpful to ‘fire a salvo of Psalms at such people’ – but it might be very helpful to do some of the following:

1. Keep in touch with them to see how they are doing – we are blessed by the ease with which we can do that – texts, WhatsApp messages, Facebook messages, FaceTime and Skype.

2. Offer to run errands for them – they might need food, drinks, prescriptions, etc.

3. Offer to give them lifts to medical appointments or other places they need to be.

4. Lend or give them books to read or DVDs to watch. if they can’t get to church and the sermon isn’t online, bring them a CD.

5. Leave meals at the doors of those who are self-isolating, with a kind message of support, and perhaps a bunch of daffodils.

We are hearing a lot about the mental anguish of the Coronavirus and by that we usually mean the anxiety and fear under which people are living as they wait. That is very real. But, as time goes on, people will also experience isolation from their communities and perhaps feelings of false guilt for infecting others – they will need connection, reassurance and support.

We are hearing some great stories about the creative ways in which people in other countries are managing this: Italians singing to each other from their balconies, Chinese people sharing food and meals with one another. Surely we in Ireland, who are known for our hospitality, can find ways to reach out to one another, instead of clearing all of the toilet roll from the supermarket shelves?

Let’s outdo one another with acts of kindness!

What do counselling and retreats have in common?

Counselling has been called ‘the cure of the soul’. And when we take the time to go on a retreat, we are paying attention to ‘the care of the soul’.

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I passionately believe that there is a link between the two – so that as we learn to care for our souls well, we may actually in some cases have less need for counselling (of course we all run into difficulties from time to time when we need some help).

If this is something that interests you, why not take a look at my other blog – Growth and Rest – where you will find more articles, as well as information about upcoming retreats? And if you want to stay up-to-date with future events, you can subscribe to it here.