Friday, 18 January 2013

Pushing doors with a little help from Miranda

Are you in the hallway wondering what's next?

The good thing about hallways is they always lead somewhere depending what door you choose: an office to study, a comfy bedroom to rest, a bathroom for a bit of relief, a kitchen if you're looking to be fed, a dining room to share a meal with friends, a lounge for entertainment, a utility room to wash the dirty laundry, or through the front door - the excitement of a big wide world.

I wonder which door God will open for you?

The only way to know if the door is open is to push it. 

I have just finished one of the books I got for Christmas, Is it Just Me? In case you are confused that's the name of the book, Miranda Hart Is it Just Me? (2012, London, Hodder & Stoughton) Actually, it's not just me finishing their Christmas reading. I know of a few other friends who have just done the same. I digress, something Miranda is good at in her book, nothing like a good digression and a forward roll (you really must read said book to understand what I mean) to amuse and make you laugh. Such fun. If you have the book turn to page 312...

My beloved, my trusted reader, my faithful St Bernard of a chum. We have now addressed, confronted, lolloped through and gently probed (pardon) a number of important issues together. Like a contestant on a reality television show, we have been on a journey... I'd now like to lead you into our final subject: dreams.


What do you dream is behind 
the door?

Friday, 11 January 2013

Blogger's Block: when times are arid - don't ignore the driftwood

Have you ever got stuck? We nearly got stuck here in the summer. The narrow streets of Pompero are not very car friendly and if you don't know what you are doing, or should I say where you are going, and take a wrong turn you end up wishing you had stayed at home.

 John and I wondered what on earth we were doing driving down this hill (see photo) trying not to scratch the paintwork of the car. It wasn't the fun we had in mind when we set out. I often seem to suffer from bloggers block, by this I mean writers block but of the blogging variety. I am sure it isn't just me that suffers from this condition. I seem to have no problem twittering, or talking for that matter, but I settle down to write something and... well... nothing... In place of all the words that have circled round my head there is a void...


An arid, lack of words.  Where once was a waterfall of words in its place there is nothing. The tide has gone out. Bloggers block remains. I am forced to look at the driftwood, the pieces that have been washed-up in the previous tide. 

Most people would not even look at the driftwood but to do so means missing out on unexpected beauty and buried treasure.

Words that have been cast out, and ideas forgotten, are sometimes just what we are looking for. Is this recycling? Is this art? Is this the direction we needed. Is this God?

Sometimes we think we will scratch the paintwork of our lives and try and take a different path to the one God has destined us to take. It is easy to panic and think we are stuck when actually we just need to take a leap of faith, or just keep going. Our journey with God is not always an easy one but if we allow him to take the steering wheel of our lives we will not scratch the paintwork or even fall off the proverbial cliff edge. We journey through times of plenty and we journey through the desert. The wilderness makes us stronger, it makes us watchful; or at least it should. Tides ebb and flow that is natures course. Don't ignore the driftwood that you see along the way. Stop and gaze on its beauty and listen to sound of the sea. God uses everything and is in everything  if we care to look. 

Listen do you hear it? 
The flow of words... Ideas... Vision... 
The flow of God's Spirit.

Psalm 42

As the deer pants for streams of water,
    so my soul pants for you, O God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
    When can I go and meet with God?
My tears have been my food
    day and night,
while men say to me all day long,
    “Where is your God?”
These things I remember
    as I pour out my soul:
how I used to go with the multitude,
    leading the procession to the house of God,
with shouts of joy and thanksgiving
    among the festive throng.
Why are you downcast, O my soul?
    Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
    for I will yet praise him,
    my Savior and my God.
My soul is downcast within me;
    therefore I will remember you
from the land of the Jordan,
    the heights of Hermon—from Mount Mizar.
Deep calls to deep
    in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
    have swept over me.
By day the Lord directs his love,
    at night his song is with me—
    a prayer to the God of my life.
I say to God my Rock,
    “Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go about mourning,
    oppressed by the enemy?”
10 My bones suffer mortal agony
    as my foes taunt me,
saying to me all day long,
    “Where is your God?”
11 Why are you downcast, O my soul?
    Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
    for I will yet praise him,
    my Savior and my God.