Life in a Roundabout way

Life can be a bit like a roundabout sometimes. It can spin so fast you want to get off but most of the time it’s a lot of fun. Ever feel you are going around in circles? Or perhaps stuck on the same loop? It’s easy to get into bad habits, less easy to break them. How easy has it been to put on weight during the lockdowns we have had? How easy was it too loose those extra pounds? If we want to do it properly we have to track those calories, and macros, and make sure we exercise regularly. If we put the effort in and track our steps we eventually get there. 

Moses took the Israelites through on what but have seemed like a never ending journey. Were they ever going to reach that promised land? God has a habit of leading us the long way round. There are lessons he wants us to learn along the way. Without the wilderness experiences we don’t grow, in-fact we just become complacent and comfortable. There is more to life than sitting in our cosy armchair in our PJs and fluffy slippers. This journey that God invites us on with him is one of joy and excitement. Embrace it! 

Lead me to the helter-skelter Lord! Bring on the laughter!

Waiting

I sat waiting. It had been a very long time. Too long. There was a stench of tobacco and beer that lingered in the cold night air. Yesterday's newspapers brought little warmth to the soul. There was no good news, or so it seemed.

The platform echoed of yester-year. The hard wooden benches had seen weary travelers for decades. Chocolate vending machines still adorned the walls but there was no Cadbury's fruit and nut to be had. It had been eaten long ago. The wooden bridge that allowed passengers to cross to the other side of the tracks echoed with the footsteps of many who had trodden the same path. Those who had felt the same pain of frustration. 

The lost baggage area contained an assortment of umbrellas, scarves and hats. Folk had discarded their protection from the elements. Old leather briefcases containing sandwich boxes of now rotten fruit awaited owners who never came. Mysterious packages remained unopened on the shelves. Most people however kept their own baggage close to their chest or strapped to their backs. The weight seemed more of a comfort than an inconvenience. 

How much longer? 

The night sky was lit with a thousand stars that danced and twinkled enticing the traveller to far distant shores. But no-one was going anywhere tonight. The last train had gone. We continued to wait. Ghosts of the past waited with us. Their heavy chains clanking as they shuffled along in a chain-gang of confusion. Not knowing where to go or what to do for fear of getting it wrong.

Why was I waiting? Should I just be patient or complain to the ticket man? Was my journey so far in vain? 

I made myself comfortable as best I could. I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck and pulled up the collar on my jacket. I felt suffocated but I would survive. 

The more the clock ticked the more isolated and alone I felt. Sleep was not my friend. As dawn broke my eventual slumber was disturbed some more. As daylight flooded onto the platform I began to realize I was not alone. There were other fellow travellers caught up in the temporary derailment. As I looked and smiled at them they began to smile back. A few nodded their head in acknowledgement of a shared journey. Tentatively I opened my mouth to wish them a good morning. Soon the silence and fear of the night had vanished as we began to talk and share our stories of travel plans scuppered. 

We were all weary. We were all tired of dragging our baggage around for so long. 

I suddenly realized I wasn't alone. I wasn't the only one with tales of woe. The derailment had effected us all; in different ways perhaps, but the fatigue and pain was the same and sat etched on all our faces. 

What now? How much longer would we have to wait? 

An announcement interrupted our chatting. The next train was due shortly. In a flurry of commotion and a lifting of voices spirits began to be restored. The ghosts of the past finally put to bed. Faith sustained and now multiplied. Today was a new day. A new song would be sung. 

The journey wasn't over yet....

What do you hear? What do you see?

Shhhuuuu listen.... what do you hear?

This morning there is the quiet pitter patter of rain drops breaking into the quiet. How often do we actually stop and listen properly? How often do we actually stop? The world is a busy and demanding place. We live amongst the noise. How can we expect to hear God unless we stop and listen? I am always blown away by the way he communicates. It is so easy to miss him if we are not careful. Is God in the rain? Now there's a question.


Wait, look.... what do you see?

I have been on holiday this last week and have had fun visiting different places and taking a few crazy photos, as you do. I have also been amazed at spotting both a kestrel and a peregrine falcon out in the wild (well I think that's what they were), oh... and a number of wild rabbits. Got to keep that food chain going. On a slightly different note, we also have a frog living in our shed, either that or my husband needs his eyes testing! I have no idea what he is doing there as we have no fish pond nearby. The frog, that is, not my husband.


What I hear and what I see often draw me to the scriptures. These are the verses that God has encouraged me with as a result of stopping to look and listen.  May you to hear the gentle whisper of God and see signs of Him as He encourages you on your journey.

The Lord appears to Elijah 1 Kings 19:9-12

And the word of the Lord came to him: ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?’
¹⁰ He replied, ‘I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.’
¹¹ The Lord said, ‘Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.’
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. ¹² After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 
 

^{Isaiah 40:31}

³¹ But those who hope in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint.

 

The Desert of life

The desert lies before
Its vastness open wide.
I long to find the answer
An oasis in my mind.

The sun it beats upon
Everything it can find.
My soul thirsts for reassurance
In its solitary confines.

The arid search for justice
Beckons forth once more.
Step by step I travel longing
For the promised door.

I trust that I will find it
That darkness cannot last.
The breaking of a new dawn
Opens up at last.



© Revdjo 6/12/13

Is it time for a rest?

 

I have recently come back from a long awaited holiday in Corfu. The area my husband and I stayed at was called Canal D'Amour, Sadari, it was indeed love at first sight. Such a beautiful place to be. Having been to Corfu before and driven around the island (including three laps of a round-about in Corfu town) we decided just to chill by the swimming pool all week. It was as they say a dogs life. This little friend joined me one morning and then scampered away again following the crowd. It is so easy to follow the crowd and get caught up in the hustle and bustle of life and forget to stop and listen to God. Even God rested on the seventh day and if he needs a rest so do we (Gen 2:2).

I like to read but of late have struggled to find the time to read just for me rather than books I have to read to complete an essay. It's been nice to be able to relax and read what I want. Two of the books I enjoyed, I read more, were David Walliam's Camp David and The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce. Walliam's autobiography is a very honest account of his life and things that have made him who he is today. We are all molded by our past but not many of us would want to put those painful moments in black and white and share them with the world. But perhaps we should be willing to share more of the things that make us who we are? Perhaps we should be more willing to share how the Spirit of God has changed our lives with those that don't know God?

Joyce's book is a fantastic read. Harold goes to post a letter to a friend but ends up going past the post box to the next one. Having got to the next post box he decided to continue walking... I won't spoil the plot for you by telling you what happens. Walking is good, resting is essential. God calls us to follow him. To walk with him in faith. To journey with him. He also invites us to rest with him (Ex 34:21, 35:2). 

Jesus said, 'Take my yolk upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls 

(Matt 11:29).      

Is it time for a rest?

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

¹ As the deer pants for streams of water,
    so my soul pants for you, O God.
² My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
    When can I go and meet with God?
³ My tears have been my food
    day and night,
while men say to me all day long,
    “Where is your God?”
⁴ 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.

⁵ 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 ⁶ 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.
⁷ Deep calls to deep
    in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
    have swept over me.

⁸ By day the Lord directs his love,
    at night his song is with me—
    a prayer to the God of my life.

⁹ 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.

 

(NIV1984)

Imagine...spirituality of writing

 

I happened on a television program tonight, Imagine...Jeanette Winterson: My Monster and Me. As they talk about inspiring writers and a love of books I have felt a need to write. Jeanette's life story is an interesting one of struggle and rejection. A sense of shame, despair, and self destruction and a way of coping through the world of books. Her creativity and use of English language is apparent through her spoken world. A working class girl, who despite it all managed to study at Oxford University. In February 2008 Jeanette tried to end her life. Her cat scratching her face as she passed out through carbon monoxide poisoning in her garage saved her life. As she came through she spoke out the scripture, 'You must be born again.' Her adopted mother, Mrs Winterton, would quote scripture at her as a child. The same Mrs Winterton who threw her out the house, and mistreated her. The mother who rejected her because of her sexuality. Jeanette seems not to hold any bitterness of her childhood choosing to forgive.

I haven't read any of Jeanette's work but I intend to. I love books. I always have. The smell, the texture of the page, the woven stories that they contain. There is nothing like a good book. As a child I always had books to read.  Paper to write and draw on and on my birthday, if I was lucky, a new pallet of paints. I have been trying to find the creative Jo that exists within me. The blogging has helped but there seems to be more creativity wanting to find expression some how. I don't yet know what form that will take only that I journey with God as I rediscover that what has been dormant for so long. There is a story to be shared and new ones to be created.   

Mrs Winterton wanted her daughter to be a missionary. Jeannette says, "She did get what she wanted because, I am, but just not for Jesus.. its for the power of the word. I suppose even that is something of what she wanted because it does begin, doesn't it,  'in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God' and I suppose the word is God to me." The Word and the word collide for me. I am an ambassador for both. There is something about exploring my own spirituality by writing about it. Sometimes you don't know what you think until the pen hits of the paper, or the fingers hit the keys of the laptop. Potential is never realized until you step out in faith and give it a go. 

Out of the mist expression appears

brush strokes on a page,

words formed and made.

Out of my mind the world collides

acts of a play dance,

film credits surprise.

Out of the night sky suddenly falls

darkness and light,

humanity dawns.

Out of my heart emotions erupt

read and you find me,

ignore and I'm lost.

RevdJo

  
  

    

A Last Supper

So does the Last Supper represent the end of the journey or the beginning?

Having lived in Nailsworth for some 15 years (I only meant to stay for 2 or 3) and the fact that I shall be leaving soon (when I eventually sell the house) I thought it was about time that I went to St George's Church.  I can never work out what page I am suppose to be on but I seemed to manage reasonable well to follow the communion service.  Some of the communion was sung and although I couldn't join in, as I didn't know the tune, I really enjoyed the change.  The church seemed friendly and warm and some of the faces seemed familiar - I guess I have been passing many of them in the street on a day to day basis.  

The big draw to the church however, was the painting that hung over the altar....

   A Last Supper by Lorna May Wadsworth

The painting is magnificent, a modern interpretation of Da Vinci's Last Supper.  

Unlike Da Vinci however, the central figure is a black Jesus.  Having been commissioned to paint the piece, following a legacy given to the church, Wadsworth retained artistic license to interpret the Last Super as she saw fit.  She chose to make all the disciples good looking with Jesus himself based on a  supermodel by the name of Tafari!  Why not?  It certainly makes you think.  

The painting hung for a time in St Martin in the Fields, Trafalgar Square but has now found its way home to Nailsworth.  If you get a chance to go and look at the painting yourself then go - apparently the light is better about 2.00pm when the summer sun finds its way through the stained glass window as it searches out the altar.

Communion is all about remembering the man who hung on the cross so that we may be reconciled to the Father.  Whilst this may be my first, and perhaps last supper in Nailsworth it is a memorable one...  

      

Where does the road lead?

Where does the road lead?  Hmmm.. I am back on my journey again.  Whilst I know the road leads to Burton-on-Trent it appears there are a few hills to climb first.  Mortgages to sort, a house to sell, a house to buy, a dissertation to write, an ordination to enjoy.  I think I need a holiday!

It is good to know that God journeys with me and that the people at Burton are waiting at the end of this road with expectancy as to how our journey together will continue.  Whilst I am excited by new prospects I am sad to be leaving behind my beloved Gloucestershire.  Whilst I'm still here I am trying to enjoy the area as best I can.

These photos were taken in around Shortwood, near Nailsworth, Glos, where I live.

The Journey Continues

 

Christ Bearing the Cross at Calvary

Andrea Da Firenze (1365-68)

Is this the right way?

Listening

How do you know that you are truely listening to God?  Recently I really felt that God was directing me in a certain direction but alas the door was closed.  I am left pondering as to whether I did actually hear what God was saying or not.  Is this just all part of his plan and part of my journey in life or was His will stopped in its tracks?  I am convinced that discerning God's voice is a corporate thing and that together as the church body we seek out HIs will but what if the body gets it wrong?  I guess we are all infallible individuals and churches are made up of infallible people so it is not surprising we get it wrong on occasion.  I am sure it grieves God when we don't walk in His will and go off on our own agendas and I am thankful that He is a God of grace who forgives us when we make mistakes and ask for His forgiveness.


My hope is in a God who knows my deepest thoughts and fears and who shelters me under His wing in times of trouble.  I am blessed to have many lovely people who are praying for me and in these last few weeks I have felt at peace.  At peace that no matter how events turn out God is with me and feels my pain because it is part of His pain too.  At peace because God knows how expectant I am and how excitted I am to follow Him.  At peace because I journey on the road that Christ journeys.