Tamed Garden versus Wild Wood

The garden has its seasons. Many autumns ago, the Briar Rose was planted. A bare root; so bare I wondered if it would survive the frosts, ice and snow of winter.

dsc_0005-1

But it did producing that first spring time its small white flowers and delicate perfume and then as summer progressed Rose Hips to provide food for my friends the birds and for me colour on a grey, wintry day, the stems of my Briar Rose stay vividly green throughout winter

So, with the garden of my soul, I want to choose well what I sow and plant, to ensure I produce good fruit in all seasons:

Love, Joy, Peace, Forbearance, kindness, goodness,
Faithfulness, Gentleness and Self-control
(Galatians 5:22 N.I.V)

But, you know what, as with my garden, the weeds and wild things get in, they blow in on the wind, under the fence, over the fence, by every means fair and foul, from the wild wood surrounding my soul garden, they leave me no choice, these things which I didn’t want but to set to with tools called watchfulness and prayer. Life in the wild wood called the world, is wild, rough, tough, dangerous and threatening to my soul’s garden, yet sometimes, just sometimes I feel sorry for the wild wood because it is in need of of the Forester’s care and attention and perhaps, just perhaps mine?

How can the wild wood, the wild things of our wonderful, exciting times be changed?

Saviour Christ,
In whose way of love
Lies the secret
Of all life,
And the hope of all people,
We pray for quiet courage to match
This hour.
We did not choose to be born
Or to
Live in such an age:
But let its problems challenge us,
It’s discoveries exhilarate us,
Its injustices anger us,
Its possibilities inspire us
And its vigour renew us
For your kingdom’s sake.
Amen

(Prayer from a prayer card created for the Lambeth Conference 1998)

And Jesus said:
“Behold, I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall hurt you”
(Luke 10:19)

Advertisements

Basin and Towel

I was dreaming that I was treading the streets of the Holy City,pottering about like a tourist. In my wandering I came upon the museum of that city of our dream. I went in, and a courteous attendant conducted me round. There was some old armour there, much bruised with battle. Many things were conspicuous by their absence. I saw nothing of Alexander’s, nor of Napoleon’s. There was no Pope’s ring, nor even the ink-bottle that Luther is said to have thrown at the devil, nor Wesley’s seal and keys. I saw a widows mite and the feather of a little bird. I saw some swaddling clothes, a hammer and three nails, and a few thorns. I saw a bit of a fishing net and the broken oar of a boat. I saw a sponge that had once been dipped in vinegar, and a small piece of silver. But I cannot enumerate all I saw, nor describe all I felt, whilst I was turning over a common drinking cup which had a very honourable place, I whispered to the attendant, ‘Have you got a towel and basin among your collection?’ ‘No,’ he said, ‘not here, you see they are in constant use.’ Then I knew I was in Heaven, in the Holy City, and amid the redeemed society.

Knowing that He came from God and went to God

Jesus took a towel and basin.

(A.E.Whitham)

img_0499-2

Only those whose sins are forgiven can really appreciate the beauty of a simple towel and basin.

The Lord Jesus didn’t just talk about loving; He loved.
Lovely thought, in Heaven the towel and basin are in constant use.
Lovely thought the Kingdom of Heaven is right here on earth, and we see it, know it in every kind deed done to another, and most especially

When brothers and sisters forgive as we have been forgiven.

The Cross That Larry Made

img_0485

Today, the 5th Sunday in Lent, and St Giles is looking down the road to Palm Sunday. Now it is our tradition for very many years to begin Palm Sunday with the blessing of palms, not in church, but over the busy main road in the Church Hall. Then following the processional cross, singing our Hosannas we cross over the road and complete a full circuit of the church wall before entering church at the west door.

This year might have been very different.

A procession yes. But no cross. Our beautiful silver cross has been stolen, it is very likely that the thieves had to cut it up to get it through the hole cut into the silver safe. Something beautiful stolen, spoilt.

Ouch!

Larry, lovely Larry, so grateful to the Lord for bringing through cancer surgery, not just once, but twice, quietly decided that St Giles would have a cross to follow. Larry was a carpenter by trade, and this is the cross that Larry made.
“Just temporary,” he said.
Just how temporary remains to be seen; this cross was handcrafted in love, received with love, and will be treasured in love. A simple cross made from wood, can there be any better cross to follow this Palm Sunday? A cross made by a carpenter in love for the carpenter who carried His Cross for us all.

Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.”

There is a redeemer
Jesus, God’s own Son
Precious Lamb of God, Messiah
Holy One
Jesus my redeemer
Name above all names
Precious Lamb of God, Messiah
Oh, for sinners slain

Thank you, oh my father
For giving us Your Son
And leaving Your Spirit
‘Til the work on Earth is done

There is a redeemer please click to listen

If you should find yourself on the top of Rowley’s very high hill, next Sunday (Palm Sunday) morning why not come and join the happy band following The Cross that Larry made.

Christmas calm

In the middle of crowded Christmas shoppers, the true spirit of Christmas found me out. Earlier a gentle friend had been saying that she really was finding it difficult to find that true spirit this year and why she felt it was; she was of course feeling back in time, to Christmas Past, when folk had less, spent less, but gave more, sharing with a good, glad heart what was theirs to share, days when you didn’t pass a neighbour by without wishing them Merry Christmas!

In my own case, I have been overwhelmed with last minute business. But surrounded by shoppers, laden with parcels from out of nowhere the Spirit of Christmas Calm stopped fluttering, folded His Wings and came to rest. And I entered worship.

No, I didn’t throw my arms in the air, burst into Hallelujah’s, Christmas Carols or even Jingle bells .. but the wing of God’s angel of peace had brushed my cheek, bidding me follow Him into that most secret of places, where worship is deeper than words or songs.. where love is speech .. where our love and God’s love meet and embrace.

Sunday, church celebrated Christmas with a Carol Service, Church Music Director Agata Beaman, St Giles Singers, St Michael’s School Band led about 200 in worship; a full report of that will be in January’s edition, and over the past few days I have met men older than me, with memories of Christmases past, choristers no longer with us .. and that has turned my mind to Christmases and years past. Firstly my thoughts turned to my own choir days, and that in turned called to mind the reason I chose St Giles for my spiritual home back in the 1960’s

Such a simple reason really,the Lord had left that choice to me, and I chose the church where the Magnificat, Nunc Dimittis, Psalms and Canticles were sung not just by the choir but by everyone. Like this afternoons angel those familiar Bible Songs of Praise led me to the place of worship. 50 years have flown, and we no longer sing The Songs of Mary and Simeon, The Benedictus and Te Deum, and I miss them, but cannot imagine that they are not still being sung in that place from which Christmas Angels come to hush our noise and bring us into the Christmas Presence.

My soul glorifies the Lord
and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,
For He has been mindful of the humble state of His servant.”

(Luke 1: 46-48 N.I.V.)

I pray that angels of peace surround you and lead you gently into Christmas and the New Year.

img_0455-1