Dear God

I came across this today written in my first year of training for ministry as we looked at the subject of worship. Previous to that I was working at a drop-in for young people which you can probably tell by some of the language I used to express myself. I can't say this is the best thing I have ever written but it made me smile so thought I would share it, well for a short time anyway!

Dear God

I love you.
I worship you.
I adore you.
I know you but I long to know you more.
Holiness is you, make me holy, make me more like you.
The world seems so full of sin,
It's difficult to know where to begin.
What do I want?
What do I need?
Do you agree or do I need to change my mind?
Forgive me for the times I moan.
Forgive me when I make you groan.
Build a hedge around you and I.
Keep me safe and free from sin.
Help me to walk close by your side
Closely with our hands entwined.

God your cool, your massive, your mine.
My Lord divine.

The tale of the little black cat

A poem by Thomas Hardy: Snow in the Suburbs   Every branch big with it, Bent every twig with it; Every fork like a white web-foot; Every street and pavement mute: Some flakes have lost their way, and grope back upward when Meeting those meandering down they turn and descend again. The palings are glued together like a wall, And there is no waft of wind with the fleecy fall. A sparrow enters the tree, Whereon immediately A snow-lump thrice his own slight size Descends on him and showers his head and eye And overturns him, And near inurns him, And lights on a nether twig, when its brush Starts off a volley of other lodging lumps with a rush. The steps are a blanched slope, Up which, with feeble hope, A black cat comes, wide-eyed and thin; And we take him in. I came across this poem the other day. I have loved Thomas Hardy's work since I was a teenager. It is so descriptive. I love the way he entices you into the story and paints pictures. There is a little black cat that visits and seems to want to adopt us. I often hear it coming through the cap flap at night and then going back out again when it hears me get up. I managed to catch it the other day. I am a little concerned as to whether it is OK and wonder if it is a stray or not. It looked well fed, but then it has been feasting on the food left for my two cats. It seemed well although its heart beat was going ten to the dozen but then it didn't expect me to pick it up. I normally give it a shoo. I asked it where it lived but got no reply only a wide eyed look. We have had such bad weather recently I have been worried it was OK. A few days ago when we had some snow, after chasing out the cat flap, it looked up at me through the kitchen window and meowed. It captured a bit of my heart that day. Who does it belong to Lord? I asked.   Yesterday evening a sign went up outside the house opposite with a photo of a cat on it. I went out to investigate. It read 'Missing for 2 weeks' and there was a photo of the little black cat. I knocked on the door. It seems the owner inadvertently frightened the cat after telling it for peeing where it shouldn't and it disappeared. Was this the same little black cat? I think so. We all need somewhere to call home. I am reminded of the story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-31) who spends his inheritance living the high life and, when the cash runs out, returns to the family home with his tail between his legs. Not knowing what to expect hoping only to be treated as a servant. The father welcomes him home with open arms.  I hope the little black cat finds the love he needs and finds his way home. I hope I can encourage it to do so. We all need love and acceptance. Things go wrong, relationships break down and misunderstandings and fear get in the way of restoration. The little black cat's owner is waiting to welcome him home. In the same way God is always waiting with open arms to welcome us back even when we make big mistakes.         This is my cat Holy helping me with a jigsaw. The photo about is of Buddy hiding in my wardrobe.

Good Friday Narrative

 

 

I was there. I wish I wasn’t, but I was there. I saw it all. What they did to my Jesus. My Jesus. The Jesus who was gentle, and humble, and so full of love. I can’t believe what they did to my Jesus. They scourged him. They whipped him, over and over, and over again. I thought they would never stop. He didn’t deserve that. Do you believe me? He didn’t deserve that. They cast lots for his clothes. They smiled and laughed and mocked him. They were told to punish him but he didn’t deserve that. They nearly killed him then but they were told to stop.

They could have saved him you know. Pilot asked who we wanted to save. 'Do you want me to set free for you the king of the Jews?' He would let one of the prisoners free without charge. It was his chance. I wanted to say, ‘Free Jesus’. I wanted to shout out, but words just wouldn’t come out of my mouth. Everyone else was shouting, ‘Free Barabbas! Free Barabbas!’ How could they want that man freed? That murderer. Jesus deserved to be set free.’  Pilot asked again, what did they want him to do with Jesus.  ‘Crucify him! Crucify him!’ I can’t believe they did that to my Jesus.

The guards were so cruel they mocked him, and spat on him. They laughed at him. My Jesus didn’t deserve that. They placed a crown of thorns on his head and called him King of the Jews. They mocked him. He didn’t deserve that.

They made him carry his own cross. He was so weak he couldn’t carry it all the way on his own. He kept falling over. It was so hard to watch. I felt so helpless. They got someone to help him. Insisted on it. I was thankful for that help. Jesus was so weak.

When we got there to that awful place. The place of the skull they called Golgotha. They took a nail and drove it though his right hand into the wood. Then they took his left hand and drove a nail right through into the wooden cross behind. Then they hammered the nail through his foot and the other. I can’t get the sound out of my head. I can still hear it now that thud, thud, thud sound. The cries of pain will hound me for the rest of my life. They raised him up on the cross and we watched. I can’t believe they did that to my Jesus. To the right and to the left of him were two others. They deserved to die. They had done wrong. But my Jesus he didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t deserve it. 

I watched. I didn’t want to, but I watched. I needed to be there. I didn’t want to be but I needed to be there. Why had God forsaken him? Why had God forsaken us? What was this about? Why Lord? Why? 

I will never forget that look in his eyes as he called out to his Father and said, ‘Eloi, Eloi, Lema sabachthani. My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?’ He was all alone on that cross. There was nothing we could do. There was nothing I could do but weep. I can’t believe they did this to my Jesus! 

He cried out, ‘Into your hands I commit my Spirit’. And then he went. Died on that cross. We watched, I didn’t want to but I had to. 

Why did he let them do this to him? 

He let them do it so that we might have a personal relationship with God. He did it so that our sins might be forgiven. He died because he loves us, you and me. Friends if you don’t know Jesus you need to find out more. If you do know him as your Lord and Saviour then rejoice. It’s Friday now, but Sunday is coming!

Drowning in the storm

There's a legend of a man who lives beneath the sea. He is a fisher of men, a last hope for those who are left behind.

The Guardian (2006) staring Kevin Costner and Ashton Kutcher tells the story of a veteran coastguard. It starts with the above thought provoking quote of a mystical figure who helps those who are drowning to reach the surface.

We don't need water to drown. Life can drown us, or so it seems. Sometimes the waves are big and fierce crashing down around us leaving us gasping for breath. Sometimes the storm seems relentless. We can only tread water at best. We pray for help. We pray some more. Nothing seems to change or even give. The storm continues. Life continues but not perhaps as we would like or want it.

But Jesus is still there amongst the waves and in the storm and his love for us never changes.

God is our refuge and strength,

An ever-present help in times of 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'...

The Lord Almighty is with us;

The God of Jacob is our fortress.

(Psalm 46:1-3, 10a, 11 NIV)

Remember the account of Jesus sleeping in the bottom of the boat (Mat 8:23-27) whilst the disciples worried about the storm. Then Jesus calmed the storm and everything was still once more.

In the midst of the storm Jesus says to us... 'Be still and know that I am God.'

 

Eyes to see what is beautiful

I have a few people with pastoral needs on my heart this week. As I wrote this I was thinking not only of my need to stop for a moment but also of a young man who went into hospital on Monday for an eye operation - for new eyes!

Lord, open my eyes to see what is beautiful.

To cherish the moment of every new day.

Lord, open my ears to hear as for the first time

The dawn chorus of birds and quietness of morning.

Lord, open my heart to love those I meet.

To offer my hand in friendship and truth.

Lord, open my mind to know what is your will.

The desire to follow you every step of the way.

Let me not be too hasty, too noisy, too busy,

To make time to embrace you.

Lord, open my mouth and help me to praise you.

Revdjo 2013

World Book Day

It is World Book Week today so I thought I would share what I have been reading. The Nations Favourite Poems (1996: BBC Books) came about as a result of a poll to discover the nations favourite poem and coincided with National Poetry Day in 1995. I have enjoyed reminding myself of some childhood favourites such as Jabberwocky by Lewis Carol, and The Owl and the Pussy-Cat by Edward Lear. (Once a cat lover always a cat lover.) Last night I read Stop all the Clocks (Twelve Songs IX or 'Funeral Blues') by W.H. Auden and heard it in the voice of John Hannah who played Matthew in Four Weddings and a Funeral. However, the poem that most spoke to me last night, continuing my recent blogging thinking of stopping, resting, and looking, is this one: 

Leisure by W H Davies

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this, if full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.