Red carpet time

The movie world has hosted yet another round of OSCAR awards and stars have made the walk with their friends and supporters, soaking up all the worldly adulation. For some of the lesser known faces, this moment represents not only the culmination of countless years of hard work but also recognition by their peers that their work is of the highest standard in the film industry. Whether or not they win an award, simply to be noticed and included is reward enough.

          Those whose stardom is well established are interviewed about their clothing and jewellery, their partners and their hopes for awards. Pushy paparazzi compete for the best positions,  determined to give the public what they seem to want - fleeting images of what, for many, may be only short-lived fame. For we all know that public opinion can change from adoration to vehement judgement almost overnight as rumours circulate and speculation gathers momentum.

          Speculation and rumour were rife in Jesus' life too as people heard of the miracles and the mercy of this prophet who walked and taught in the villages, in synagogues and out in the open country. Jesus’ popularity mushroomed; he was pursued by people desperate for healing of body, mind and spirit, but also desperate for relief from the oppressive Roman occupation. It's not hard to see why Jesus needed time to pray and reflect as he processed what was going on around and within him.

          Even as he drew strength from the Source of all life,in his humanity he would also have been wrestling with the  lure of fame, and the heady feeling of being sought out by people wherever he went.  Perhaps he was trying to reconcile the tension between the call he knew to be his, to usher in the Kingdom of God, and the call of the people, to be the leader of a popular movement against Roman rule.  No wonder Jesus needed to receive, in silence, the deep assurance of grace sufficient for his needs, and guidance in the time ahead, for all too soon he would have his own ‘red carpet day’.

          Matthew 21: 1-11 describes that  day - Palm Sunday - the day of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Riding on a donkey - reminding the crowd he was coming in peace - Jesus entered that holy city with the adoring cries of the people ringing in his ears.  

All the months of miracles, the countless meetings with people for healing and hope-bringing,reached a peak of excitement and adulation as people threw their cloaks and branches of palms to form a 1^st century version of the ‘red carpet’ and shouted:

           “Hosanna to the Son of David!”

          “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”

          “Hosanna in the highest!” ( v. 9)

But, as we all know, that adulation did not last. Within a few short days, their shouts had changed from adoration to derision:  “Crucify him! Crucify him!” ( Matthew 27: 22-23) Before long, Jesus found himself walking another path, the Via Dolorosa, which led to the place of execution, Golgotha, and the descent into the darkness of death. Popular recognition had turned to decisive rejection.

          This time next year, few will recall the names of the 2016 Oscar winners, but the name of Jesus will continue to draw, disturb and delight countless people around the globe who see in him the hope of resurrection and a different way of being human - the Jesus way.

Writer's block

Although I've done a fair bit of writing in the past ten years, I haven't experienced 'writer's block' ...
until now.

I don't know whether it's the real deal  - a dreadful paralysis of the mind which stops creativity dead in its tracks - or whether it's just a sign of the slowing of thought that is inevitable with ageing or a lack of confidence or needing more sleep!

Whatever it is, it's real enough to me.

My particular block wall consists of a number of bricks:

• the voice that says things like 'Who do you think you are to attempt this?' or 'Why don't you just relax and forget about this writing thing... it'd be a lot easier.'
• then there's the stack of thoughts - things I've read, seen or heard that seem relevant and compete for inclusion
• and I mustn't forget the panic that erupts when I think about trying to meet a revised deadline
• and the wondering about repeating myself - how to make things 'fresh'
• and how to organise the material so it's 'logical' and appealing
• and whether people will or won't find it helpful ...  and so on ...

So I don't think it was 'coincidence' that the psalm for this morning - honouring George Herbert - priest, pastor and poet - was the very familiar psalm 23.

When I spent time with the psalm the word 'lead'  drew my attention.
      '... he leads me beside still waters;
           he restores my soul.
       He leads me in the right paths
            for his name's sake. [vv.2b-3, NRSV]

I stayed with 'lead' and let myself dwell in that word and what it might be like to be led by 'the good shepherd'.

A thought comes - and then an image - Jesus and I stand together in front of the wall  ... he touches each brick and speaks new life into the anxiety of my soul -

• listen to my voice - I will not lead you into danger or dryness
• you know that part of your vocation is to write - we are in this together and I will lead you as I have done before
• you've been given the freedom to take as long as you need - don't waste energy worrying 
• spend some time with me in silence and the concerns about structure will be addressed
• whether people find this helpful is not up to you  ... your task is to write it, that's all

There are gaps in the wall now... soon it won't be strong enough to stand.

The Light is bringing light. 

Kororia ki te Atua

Glory to God

Tigger

Twelve thousand miles from tortoiseshell Tigger
missing her energetic enthusiasm
her softness and her loving,
I came across another cat,
curled in silent, safe-place sleep.

Tabby and white and warm
her fur invited my touch.
I could not hold back,
I reached out
quietly to caress.
But the cat was not alone
for God was gently lying there
beneath my longing hand.


This poem, written in 1995 when we were spending a year in Canterbury UK for me to do some study, marks the first time I really became aware of God's loving presence in creation.

I wrestled with the concept, wondering whether I 'ought' to be thinking along those lines and, because my default setting is to 'find out more information' I explored the distinction between pantheism, the belief that the universe/nature is identical with the divine and that there is no distinct personal God,  and panentheism  “the belief that the being of God includes and penetrates the whole universe, so that every part of it exists in Him, but ... that his being is more than, and is not exhausted by, the universe” (Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church). 

This helped. But even without that  theological exploration, there was something about the experience that clear morning, as we walked around a stately home in the Kent countryside, that allowed me an insight into a  deeper way of knowing God which continues to inform and delight me to this day. I experienced a God who cared for me, who  met me in my homesickness and comforted  me in just the right way, at just the right time.

I believe that God's presence permeates all of creation, that we have only to stop and look and listen to become aware of what lies 'beneath our longing hand'. In doing so, we open ourselves to receive the love that God tailor-makes for each one of us, meeting us in our need, so the journey of transformation into being 'as Christ'  may continue.

A different awakening

Lara the dog starts moaning at 5am - J. nobly gets up to let her out - fair enough as he was the one who gave her the large bone that set off her interior grumblings two hour's earlier than usual.

Pickles the cat makes her entry at 5.30am  - following her normal route across the backs of our pillows for maximum effect. Her kneading and purring are replaced by a very loud thump [considering she only weighs 3kg] and then the scratching of the chair begins - always guaranteed to get one of us up and running.

Traffic noise fills the road outside our front door as the city wakes.

I am home.

What a contrast to the last few days.

What a reality for most of us, most of the world, who don't have the luxury of a place of retreat and who have to do the best they can to enable God-awareness to seep into the fabric of the day.

I don't know about you but I am usually okay at taking quality 'God-time' in the morning and I set off into the day well resourced and light of heart. But then - as the day's tasks, conversations, dreams and demands emerge, it's all too easy for the lightness to dissipate. I know I need to stop at regular intervals to re-engage and refresh my connection with the source of all life.

Monastic rules of life recognise  that human beings need this regular connection - and there seems to be an increasing  interest among Christians in adopting or creating a 'little rule of life' that will provide a framework for slowing down and paying  attention to God during the day. If you are interested to take this further,  then you might like to visit the Society of St John the Evangelist website
http://www.ssje.org/ . They are currently offering helpful material on 'Growing a rule of life' including a downloadable workbook.

Regular connection with God is a 'work in progress' for us all - but regularly slowing down does make a difference to our capacity for listening to the Spirit of Jesus, to ourselves and to our communities. Maybe that's something that could be part of your Lenten journey this year?

Eight beautiful days at Kinloch on the shores of Lake Taupo  ... now it's time to pack up and head back to the city, the street noise, and the challenge of keeping hold of some of the treasures of this
stunningly serene part of Aotearoa New Zealand.

I take with me the inner delight of watching everyday life with birds and sky and clouds unimpeded by phone or noise.

I take with me deep thankfulness for insights about my own need to welcome the stranger within  - in my case the part of me that procrastinates ... St Paul spoke poignantly about not doing what he wanted to do and I have some sympathy for his struggles with the 'thorn in the flesh', whatever it was. So, instead of wasting time wrestling, I'm learning simply to  accept the 'little procrastinator' and get on with the next thing that God gives me to do!!

I take with me the joy of my son and daughter-in-law's weekend visit - sharing the everyday delight of shopping and walking and talking and eating together.

I take with me too the memory of a special conversation with my son, whose listening, kindness and wise words brought comfort and healing.

The ordinary things of life?

Not really -  for they shimmer with the Spirit of Jesus and turned into glory before our eyes.

Like an owl in desolate places ...

Morepork -photo by Chris Turner

Twelve  thousand miles from ruru – the ‘morepork’ whose call fades as dawn slips over the hills – we came across another little owl. We were walking along a secluded Norfolk path on a very windy morning and there he was, sitting right in the middle of the lane - fluffed up in the chilly air, bemused rather than wise. My husband scooped him up and carefully set him on a sheltered branch to regain his equilibrium. ‘Light as a feather’, he quipped, but I knew he was chuffed to hold such a treasure in his hands for a moment.

Unlike today when owls in the wild are valued and owls in various forms in jewellery, ceramics and art, enjoy a certain popular appeal, in Jesus’ time owls were considered ‘unclean’. When the psalmist referred to 'the owl in desolate places' he was expressing  desperate isolation, loneliness, separation from those who gave his life meaning. He felt a deep sense of being disconnected.

Spirituality is about connection – with ourselves, with others, with the world around us – but above all with the Loving Presence in and through all things. If you sometimes feel like a ‘little owl’, distant from what brings you life or if solitude brings fear and sadness,  turn to Jesus and invite him to meet you in your place of vulnerability. 

May he scoop you up and hold you in strong, kind hands until you are ready to ‘fly’ again.

Night sky

It is pitch black when I gather my warm dressing gown around me and carefully step down onto the back lawn in the darkness.

There are stars forever - shapes and patterns, skymap's gift of fascinating names, planets tucked below the horizon, the exact location for the South Pole and constellations brought to life.

There is awe - wonder - but no words really touch the vastness of the arcing expanse - the shining beauty of it all.

I think of you Jesus - getting up early to pray - and I wonder if, as part of your prayer, you lay on your back and let the stars sink into your soul, and drank in the joy of knowing them all by name.
And as you lay there, and the birds began to sing before dawn,  maybe these moments of connection with the breadth and height and depth of your Creation helped to strengthen you for the day ahead.

Before I go indoors, I look for - and find  - the Cross and its two pointers. I notice that my inner self settles gently, knowing I've found my familiar place in the sky, my reference point on earth.

early morning

It's been a long time.
A lot has happened.
But here I am and this morning I found myself again at the edge of Lake Taupo, listening to the rhythm of the tiny waves, and the rowdy chorus of plovers down the beach. 
I remembered an earlier morning visit to the lake five years ago  [ they are rare as I'm not a 'get-up-and-go' person in the mornings] but I had prised myself from the warmth of my husband's back and had walked the 3 minutes to the lake edge ... and as I had watched the wake-up routines of ducks and heron, scaub and cormorant and swans-in-the-making, some words began to take shape  - so here they are for you. May they help you picture a classic New Zealand morning and enjoy the blessing of God's gifts in creation.

Beloved  -

I would feed you with

            ease of arising

            lake water washing

            shimmer of poplars

            silence of sunshine

            memory of singing

            blessing of baptism

            kingfisher watching

            snowpeak of mountain

            warm scent of roses

            clamber of clematis

            forget-me-not sweet.

Your night fast is broken,

welcome the day.