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I'm reading several books over Lent. Some of them are slim but I hope making up in substance what is reduced in page count. Starting with this unambitious new volume by Sheila Upjohn, The Way of Julian oif Norwich. A Prayer Journey Through Lent.

Unambitious refers to my own choice of a book that feels like playing at home. I've been reading Julian's Revelations over the years since my first encounter in 1974 with a book that, like some of our most dependable friends, we come back to after not having seen each other for ages, and pick up as if our last encounter was yesterday. 

Sheila Upjohn is an undemanding writer. Which doesn't mean that she is in any way superficial. Already it is obvious she knows this text intimately, as you would expect from someone who translation of the Revelations is one of the most popular and accessible, without ever being trite or dumbing down the intimacy that lies at the heart of mystical theology. 

Already there is cause to pause, for thought: "It's a new thought that our prayers are stored up in heaven, and it's challenging, too, when you think how few of them there may be." Just read that again and do a quick calculation of how many prayers have been added to our prayer treasury in heaven this past week. Upjohn raises this intriguingly searching question in response to Julian's description of how gladly God receives and keeps safe each of our prayers.

Our Lord himself is the first to receive our prayer, as I see it. He takes it, full of thanks and joy, and he sends it up above and sets it in the treasury where it will never be lost. It is there before God and all his holy ones – continually heard, continually helping our needs. When we come to heaven, our prayers will be given to us as part of our delight – with endless, joyful thanks from God." (Chapter 41)

That is such a subversive description of the dynamics of prayer. Not us giving a prayer of thanks, but God giving thanks to us for our prayers. Really? Our prayers are kept in heaven and continually heard; time bound as we are we tends to think a prayer is spoken, thought or felt, and time moves on. But, says Julian, the prayer perdures, and retains its efficacy as the voice of God's child that continues to echo in praise, petition and intercession.

Upjohn is right, at least for me. This is a new way of thinking about prayer, especially for those of us often tempted to think of prayer as a functional discipline, or a conversation along contractual lines. Even allowing for the more devotional intimacy of pouring out our hearts to God in love, gratitude and worship, the idea that all those spoken words, stirred emotions and ideas given thought, are received by a glad God grateful for the gift they are, and that they are stored in heaven as God's treasure – that's an altogether different level of prayer dynamic. 

That is why Julian is such a provocative companion during Lent. She insists that joy, gratitude and love are not one way traffic, but a cycle of giver and receiver in which each enriches the other by gift exchange. Prayer is a commerce of love.  

First Snow

The snow
began here
this morning and all day
continued, its white
rhetoric everywhere
calling us back to why, how,
whence such beauty and what
the meaning; such
an oracular fever! flowing
past windows, an energy it seemed
would never ebb, never settle
less than lovely! and only now,
deep into night,
it has finally ended.
The silence
is immense,
and the heavens still hold
a million candles; nowhere
the familiar things:
stars, the moon,
the darkness we expect
and nightly turn from. Trees
flitters like castles
of ribbons, the broad fields
smolder with light, a passing
creekbed lies
heaped with shining hills; 
and though the questions
that have assailed us all day
remain — not a single
answer has been found —
walking out now
into the silence and the light
under the trees,
and through the fields,
feels like one.

Looking at, and looking through the ordinary, was one of Mary Oliver's gifts. This poem has a tone of breathless wonder, as the poet becomes caught up into one of nature's quietly transformative happenings. The sense of wonder is intensified by the presence of questions seeking answers, and later in the poem, answers seeking questions; but "not a single answer has been found", except it has, or so it feels. 

To read this poem through aloud, but quietly and slowly, is to begin to see and feel the miracle of snowfall. Climatologists can better describe the phenomenon in terms of science; but it is the poet who is best equipped to analyse and articulate the power of snowfall to interrogate the subjective impact of snow. The 'white rhetoric' of trillions of falling snowflakes evokes the longings, stirs questions we hadn't thought to ask, and provokes the imagination to see more than is merely visible.

Throughout the poem Oliver uses words that are uncomplicated and which are descriptive of inner responsive feelings as well as the visible phenomenon of snowfall and its pristine aftermath. "Whence such beauty and what the meaning." Oliver's poetry often acknowledges nature's mysteries, with hints at the metaphysical clues of loveliness, beauty, energy and silence. 

Once the precipitation has ended, "the silence / is immense, /and the heavens still hold / a million candles…" So the skies of heaven are cleared, and predictably awe inspiring, but the earth beneath is transformed into a magic landscape of beauty, possibility and and surprise. This poem is about quietly satisfied joy in a world where newness is not only possible but made visible in the light of a million candles. 

But it is that word "though" that is the poem's hinge that folds the earlier italicised questions to wards a kind of resolution. Not answers to the questions of the metaphysically speculative or aesthetically curious observer. But an answer more humanly resonant, that is felt rather than spoken, experienced rather than described, and that satisfies the human person's longing for wholeness and at-homeness in the world. The questions have assailed the mind and troubled the spirit; the answer is not in the earthquake of argument, or the wind of aggressive enquiry, or in the fire of logic energised by reason – but in the still small voice that can only be heard during a night walk in snowlight. Assailing questions remain with not a single answer found – but

walking out now
into the silence and the light
under the trees,
and through the fields,
feels like one.       

One further thought. Today I spent a couple of hours digging out our car, shovelling snow, clearing pavements, mine and our neighbours'. I have never resented that kind of work, least of all moving snow. There are so many compensations to snow. I have unqualified sympathy with Oliver's attempt at describing a natural spirituality of snowfall upon a landscape. Reading her poem this morning, looking out at a North East blizzard, I'm aware it isn't quite the same as snow gently falling in moonlight. But I guess we all know enough about the entrancing power of snow to sense that Oliver is expressing something of our own questions in search of an answer; and perhaps too pointing to an answer that sends us searching for the questions. Either way, this is a poem in which we overhear the gentle interrogation of the heart, by heart-stopping beauty. 

   

(Prayer written as the Benediction for our Sunday online service.)

Jesus, Light of the World, shine upon us, and within us.

  Shine the light of hope into our despondency;

    Shine the light of truth into our world, and into our minds;

      Shine the light of peace into places of division and conflict;

        Shine the light of new possibilities into our stuckness;

          Shine the light of joy and laughter into our boredom;

            Shine the light of faith and trust into our fears and anxiety;

              Shine the light of your presence into our loneliness;

                Jesus, Light of the World, shine upon us, and within us.

There’s a lot of sobering news around. I could make a list for you to read but you’re ahead of me. You know as well as I do that watching the news online, on TV, or in the papers is an exercise in discouragement and sadness.

The Psalmists, good poets that they were, had a good description for that kind of feeling: “My spirit grows faint within me, my heart within me is dismayed.” Those same Psalmists also knew the antidote for a crushed spirit, a heavy heart, and a mind trying hard to see beyond the world’s mess. “Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me.”

Right. That’s what we need, some joy and a spirit willing to get on with life whatever the limitations. One of the most frequently used words in the Psalms is gladness. So.When were you last glad? To help you pinpoint such an occasion here’s the dictionary definition: glad – feelings of pleasure, pleased and delighted, characterised by cheerfulness.

Okay Jim, when was the last time others could say you were ‘characterised by cheerfulness’; when were you last genuinely glad? “Oh, I think it wasn’t that long ago – when geese flew overhead, honking all the way to Loch Skene, when I ate a crème brûlée, when my friend Zoomed me from Alabama. But I admit it – gladness is scarcer than it used to be.” This past year it’s been hard to be characterised by cheerfulness!

The thing is, gladness can’t be manufactured out of thin air. None of us can just talk ourselves into feeling glad and cheerful. There has to be a reason for gladness just as there is usually a reason for sadness. And that’s where the Psalms can help us. The Psalmists are very clear about the causes of gladness and characteristic cheerfulness. As you would expect, it all comes back to what we think about God, how we see the world, what is happening in our own life story, as we live the life that is God’s gift every single day. Here are a few hints about where gladness comes from:

Psalm 31.7 “I will be glad and rejoice in your love, for you saw my affliction, and knew the anguish of my soul.” The one constant, dependable, unchangeable circumstance in our lives is the love of the God. We are not alone in this. Be glad about that.

Psalm 92.4 “You make me glad by your deeds, O Lord, I sing for joy at the work of your hands.” This is still a wonderful world, the Creator’s masterpiece gifted to us. The birds we feed, the technology we use, the glory of sunset. Be glad about beauty and the fruitfulness of God’s creation and human labour.

Psalm 97.1 “The Lord reigns, let the earth be glad.” At a time when even the best world leaders struggle with complex problems and life or death decisions, the Lord God reigns, and his purposes will be fulfilled. Don’t know about you, but when I watch the news all about political division, Covid 19, Brexit, the economy and recession, I’m glad “the Lord reigns”, and this is still a God-loved world.

Psalm 118.24 “This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” So there it is. You wake up, you’re still here, the gift of another day. Time is God’s gift, not to be wasted in morose wishing it could be otherwise, but to be enjoyed and lived gratefully, creatively, and yes, gladly.

Put all that together, as a recipe for gladness, especially when we don’t feel like it. We are glad God loves us and sees how hard life sometimes is; we are glad because all around us, if we look for it, is the beauty and fruitfulness of God’s creation; we are glad because, in a world as broken as ours, we affirm as a resurrection people who worship the God of Hope, the Lord reigns; we are glad because today, we are alive, this day is God’s gift, and God has work for us to do.

With all that in mind, here is one of my favourite prayers, which I often say at the start of the day:

May we accept this day at your hand, O Lord, as a gift to be treasured, a life to be enjoyed, a trust to be kept, and a hope to be fulfilled; and all for your glory. Amen

During these long days of restriction and loss, go looking for reasons to be glad – even if you don’t feel like it. God’s love to us in Jesus, God’s beautiful creation, God’s providence and reign over the earth, and each day when we wake up still with a life to live – “Let us rejoice and be glad, and give the glory unto Him. Hallelujah, for the Lord our God the Almighty reigns.”

Prayer written for our forthcoming online recorded service.

Theme is based on Romans 8.38-39

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Prayer of Petition

Creator God, you looked on all that you made and said, “Very Good.”

Your love is creatively and purposefully invested in all that you have made.

The stars are numbered and named, and not one of them is missing;

yet you notice the sparrow that falls from exhaustion.

So Your mercy and love surrounds the vastness of our universe,

and holds as treasure, the inconsequential sparrow.

We thank you that your your love is faithful, careful and unfailing towards us,

and that nothing you have made is inconsequential to you.

 

God of Grace, mostly we know that nothing can separate us from your love.

But sometimes we do feel alone, afraid and uncertain.

Comfort our hearts and strengthen our minds with these words;

nothing in all creation can separate us from your love in Christ.

 

God of Hope, when life gets us down, and we’re left wondering what’s worthwhile any more,

restore our joy, rebuild our hope, renew our peace,

by instilling deep in our souls those inwardly far-reaching words –

nothing in all creation can separate us from your love in Christ.

 

God of the cross and the empty tomb,

help us to look on all that is broken in our world, in our country, in our own lives,

and then to lift up our eyes and see your forgiving and redeeming love on the cross;

then lift our eyes further to see our Risen Lord

who has overcome all that separates us from your love,

calling us into the new creation of life in Him,

where nothing in all creation can separate us from your love in Christ.

 

May God who is the ground of hope fill you with all joy and peace,

as you lead the life of faith

until by the power of the Holy Spirit you overflow with hope.

Amen

These have been difficult weeks here in the North East of Scotland. Like everyone else, we have lived with the public health restrictions, and Christmas and New Year have been diminished to the closest circle of friends and family, and even that has been severely selective.  For ourselves, walking outdoors has been one of the daily routines to help us stay healthy, physically and mentally.

That was fine until the snow, which melted and re-frosted overnight (I know re-frosted seems a made up word). It being the holiday period, and local authorities short of staff and money, neither roads nor pavements have been gritted since the ice and snow took hold. The result is it is near impossible to walk safely out of doors for any but those who have ice grips on their shoes.

Our house sits at the top of our street, on a fairly definite gradient, which has been like an Olympic ski jump slope, except with a surface like an Olympic skating rink. So the car isn't a safe option to get from impossible walking to cautious walking. Except for one day. The road was made passable by myself and a couple of others using the salt grit in the wee yellow bin at the top of the road. So we escaped for part of a day and had a walk in the woods. That's where the photo was taken.

During these long months of lock down, then restrictions eased, then tightened again into winter until we are in lock down again, I have found solace in the woods, with a camera, and she who is my lifelong walking companion. Together we take time to look, pay attention, think, pray and enjoy this day while waiting for better days. Looking out through the trees this hanging twig of pine caught the sunlight, which caught my eye. 

Haiku
The waters of life,
on a pine needle setting,
drop like diamonds.

I've often wondered about beauty. Is it always there waiting to be noticed, or does it become beautiful as we notice it, and appreciate the there-ness of that which calls into the depths of who we are? And does our ability to see something as beautiful depend on our own inner climate of emotion and disposition towards the world?

Would I have noticed this pine twig if I hadn't been so glad to get out and about again, hungry and thirsty for the smells, sounds, sights around, and the feel of mud paths, pine needle carpets, uneven ground requiring more than just putting one foot in front of the other? My answer? I don't know. 

What I do know is that there are now countless occasions when I have stopped and seen beyond that which is there. Taking a photograph is much, much more than trying to capture a moment that cannot be digitised anyway.

Taking a photograph is:

a way of disciplining the way we look on the world;

a moment of intentional appreciation;

an acknowledgement of our connectedness to that which is not us;

a knowing smile as we recognise the signature of the Creator;

a gentle defiance of a culture that thrives on noise, possession and the enthroned ego;

an aide memoire of an encounter that has nourished, provoked and summoned us;

an act of trust in the worthwhileness of the ordinary, the daily and the routine;

a form of prayer which merges the contemplative, the active and the imaginative.

And for myself, that last definition " a form of prayer", holds together and affirms all the others. My camera, and the worlds it opens to me, has become a means of grace, and a means of recognising grace when it stares me in the face. So many other emotions and inner climate changes come into play when that happens, when we recognise the grace "that brought me safe thus far." Gladness, gratitude, thoughtfulness, wistfulness, longing, alertness; and yes, at times intimations of sadness, reflective moments of regret, memories nudged awake, and a sense of the incompleteness that is inherent in human finitude.

Such inarticulate feelings and responses are perhaps the deeper parts of prayer, whether the "burden of a sigh" or "the motion of a hidden fire, that trembles in the breast." That has become so for me over quite a number of years now, but more keenly felt, and more spiritually necessary over these past pandemic blighted months. Deprived of regular worship, absent the shared fellowship of prayer, and distanced from the physical communion of saints, other ways of relating to God have grown and strengthened. They have had to. 

I still long for renewed and uncomplicated human encounters in the fellowship of all God's children. This most recent lock down postpones that even further. But eventually for each of us there will also be the important work of hanging on to what we have learned about ourselves, about God, and about this God-loved, and beautiful but broken world -through which grace still reaches out to us. The second photo was taken before I finished writing this post. It's the burn that runs through one of the forests we have come to love as a place of peace, companionship, interest, and yes, grace…

Thou flowing water, pure and clear, 
make music for thy God to hear,
alleluia, alleluia!   

My words are being written to you on the second last day of 2020. We are two days away from the completion of our country’s exit from the European community, and Parliament has just overwhelmingly approved that decision. However we each feel about that, it is a huge change to our way of life, how we see ourselves as a country, and how we relate to our European neighbours. We are also caught up in the second wave of Covid 19 infections which are rising faster and higher than the first wave, back in March and April. Once again our NHS staff are stretched to the limit, and hospital A&E and Wards in danger of being overwhelmed, and most of us are facing further weeks of tight restrictions and possible lock down.

We go into 2021 uncertain about many things. As Christians we aren’t immune to the anxieties and difficulties of living through these hard months. We get lonely without the usual company, frustrated by all the restrictions, worried about ourselves and our family, anxious about our jobs, stressed going to the shops, afraid to use public transport. It’s a long list of losses we never thought would happen to us.

Uncertain about many things, but as Christians there are also some game-changing certainties. Here are some of them. Read them slowly:

“Though I walk through the valley of deep darkness, I will fear no evil. Your rod and staff comfort me.”

“I look to the hills. Where does help come from? Help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth.”

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name, you are mine.”

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, trust also in me…Remain in me and I will remain in you…as the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. Now remain in my love.”

Older translations said “abide in me and I in you.” The word means to take up residence, our Scottish word “bide” comes from the same word family. Whatever else is going on in the world, there is a safe place to bide and remain; in the love of God. In fact Jude 21 says as much: “Keep yourselves in God’s love, as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life.”

As we go into 2021, there are new hopes for vaccines and later in the year a less restricted way of life. Nothing is certain of course. Well, except, when God says something it stays said! God keeps his promises. “My word shall not return to me empty, but will accomplish the purpose for which I sent it.”

So when God says “Fear not”, God means it. Of course reading those words, and even taking them to heart, doesn’t take away all our fears, anxieties, worries, problems and uncertainties. We are human, and God knows that and understands our weakness. “Fear not” is God’s reminder to us that no matter what we are dealing with, we are not on our own.

Where does help come from? The Lord, the maker of heaven and earth. What about the dark valleys, steep hills, and blind corners? I will fear no evil for Thou art with me! But how do I know that? “Remain in my love”; make your home in the love of God, That’s where you bide. Know that whatever else changes, God changes not, his compassions they fail not.

Now there’s a strange statistic going the rounds. In answer to the question, How many times does the phrase “Fear not” appear in the Bible – the number is given as 365 times, once for each day of the year. It’s a good statistic – but it isn’t correct. Nothing like that many. One scholar, using various translations and lexicons struggled to get anywhere near 300!

But here’s the thing. God doesn’t need to repeat himself. Once God says something, it stays said. If God says it once, it stands as God’s word. Given the steadfast love of the Lord, the faithfulness and mercy of our God, “He has given us his very great and precious promises…” (2 Peter 1.4).

We go into 2021 with its uncertainties, but God is before us and after us, ahead of us and behind us, and his promises are as secure as His word. “Fear not, for I have redeemed you, I have called you by name, and you are mine”. Whatever awaits each of us in the next year, God’s love is the underlying constant of our lives. Christ is our refuge, and in him we abide, and nothing, nothing can separate us from the Love of the triune God of Grace, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Hold on to that truth, about the God who holds on to you.

(First written to our Church community in Montrose)

Photo of Nativity Silhouette Outside Banff Parish Church.

Thought for the Day Dec 21-27

Monday    Matthew 1.19-20 “Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly. But an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.”

The decency of Joseph is one of the overlooked gifts in the Christmas story. Joseph had rights which he refused to impose. Gentleness that refuses to hurt, and love that persists through such a difficult situation – what a fiancé! The angel’s explanation might seem a bit far-fetched – but then miracles are not meant to be plausible. God does the unexpected, and we are left to wonder…and worship.

Tuesday    Matthew 1.21 “She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

Jesus wasn’t an unusual name in first century Jewish society. An ordinary name, but for one whose birth would be extraordinary in the history of the universe. Jesus would fulfil the promise of a long awaited move on the part of God. God’s answer to sin is this promised child; God’s love is embodied in this child embodied in Mary; God’s eternal purpose comes to fulfilment in the birth of Jesus into our human history. “Late in time behold him come, offspring of a virgin’s womb…”

Wednesday   Luke 1.12 “Zechariah was startled and gripped with fear…” Matthew 1.19; “Mary was greatly troubled at the angel’s words…”; Luke 1.29 “The angel said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife…”

Fear is scary! It’s hard to think straight when we are really frightened. In all the sentiment and celebration of Christmas, it is worth remembering the mixture of shock, terror and life-changing events that happened unasked to those who lived through that first Christmas. And their response to their fear was faith, a radical trust that all this strangeness was because God was bursting into human history. Christmas is more than a comfort story – it is a new beginnings story.

Thursday – Christmas Eve.  Luke 2.10 -11 “But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the   town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.

Great joy for all the people. The emotions of Christmas are many and varied; fear and trust, joy and sorrow, longing and fulfilment. Into all our deepest experiences comes the One called Jesus, who will live human life as God had always intended. Through that life and death, he will heal our brokenness, forgive our sins, renew our capacity to love God and neighbour, and gives us back the life God always intended for his children. 

Friday – Christmas Day –Luke 2.13-14. Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to all men and women, on whom his favour rests.”

The older familiar phrase captures the strange beauty of the greatest ever press conference: “Suddenly, there was a multitude of the heavenly host…” On this day of all days, join with the angels’ song, and open your heart and your life to that peace which God intends for all people. Then open your heart further in showing and sharing the peace, love, joy and hope of God in Christ.

Saturday – Boxing Day – Matthew 2.1-2 “After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”

Magi, wise men, explorers, scientists – whatever word we use, these were amongst the cleverest and most resourceful people around at the time of Jesus birth. They knew about stars; they weren’t afraid of travelling out of their comfort zone; they were deeply religious and brought gifts to acknowledge the wonder of it all. They knew about that particular star now parked over Bethlehem. And ever since they have been examples of what it might mean to go looking for Jesus.

Sunday Matthew 2.11 “On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.”

Christian worship always means these things – coming to the place where Christ is and actively seeking to find him; bowing down in adoration and offering our obedience; bringing to Christ our gifts, the service of our hearts, and the energy of our bodies. We know the words, “If I were a wise man, I would do my part; yet what I can, I give him, give my heart.” “Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift!”