Author: Suzanne

We play a part in God’s work. This seems to be a theme in the divine curriculum for Suzanne just now. Ministry is not about God playing a part in our work, nor should prayer primarily be about asking God to bless what we think is a good idea. When we act like it is our efforts that matter, it suggests that we have an inflated view of our own importance in the cosmic scheme of things.

I have also been challenged by a couple of things I’ve read this past week. The first was an article by a secular anthropologist (ask me if you want the reference). He was critical of Christians working in a particular part of Asia in the past who didn’t take time and make an effort to understand a very complex Tibetan Buddhist worldview. The second thing I read which challenged me was a suggestion by blogger Jerry Jones. He says that when we’re trying to understand another culture and we learn something new, we should respond by asking questions rather than try to figure out even as we’re listening how to use what is said as a jumping point to what we want to communicate. The whole post is well worth reading, actually – you can find it here: http://www.thecultureblend.com/how-to-ask-great-cross-cultural-questions/

And now, with that background in mind, come with me to a language lesson yesterday.

A Language Lesson

We’re sitting on two chairs, the Tibetan word for chair,་རྐུབ་ཀྱག, literally meaning ‘to hold up one’s buttocks’. (Such things amuse me.) There is a small table for my books. Scattered around the room are a computer, printer, overflowing bookshelves, a coffee table, study materials … and a shrine.

There are lots of unlit candles on and in front of the shrine and today there is an offering of what looks like a jar of coconut oil. Prayer flags hang above it.

Today, along with the usual practical vocabulary, the textbook contains a Tibetan proverb. My teacher’s eyes light up. 

A Proverb

ཡ་རབས་མ་རབས་སྤྱ྄ོད་པས་ཤེས།

By observing virtues, good or bad, one can glimpse the character of another.

This isn’t a good translation, my teacher declares. But it is impossible to express its meaning in English without a background of Buddhist philosophy. 

Buddhism teaches that we are born ‘good’, he explains. Our nature is like a vast blue sky without a single cloud in sight. As we make our way through life and do bad things, we contaminate this purity. We can clean it up a bit, though, by earning merit. 

Nobody is entirely good or entirely bad, however, which is one problem my teacher sees with the English translation of this proverb. We’re all a work in progress. Not that we are even really us … our bodies are just a transient illusion. 

Nor can we judge one another, and this is another problem with the English translation of the proverb. We are all flawed. Only the Buddha is in a position to judge, because his perspective comes from one who is ultimately pure. Like a lotus flower which emerges from mud, so the Buddha has come through the murkiness that is life and emerged pure. 

My dream response

Even as I listen, one part of my brain is trying to formulate responses while another is struggling to keep up. What follows is how I dream of responding. 

The Bible teaches that we were created ‘good’, like the blue sky without a single cloud in it. But God’s enemy tempted our ancestors to rebel by crossing the limit God had instituted. And so we became flawed. Every generation since is cursed. 

The Bible teaches that nothing – no sacrifice, no penance, nothing – can undo the damage of sin. We are entirely dependent on God’s mercy for salvation. It’s not something we achieve, but something bestowed on us. 

As for our bodies being temporary, the Bible has something to say about that too. It’s a mystery how, but our weak and temporary bodies will one day be transformed into heavenly resurrection bodies if we are saved through Jesus.  We can read more about that in 1 Corinthians 15:35-58. 

As for judgement, Jesus talked about that too. He said that we cannot judge one another because we are flawed. (See Matthew 7:1-5.) Only Jesus has lived a perfect life, without blemish.

 My actual response

I try as best I can to focus on my teacher’s explanation, to prayerfully request the Holy Spirit’s wisdom and words, and to push my ‘clever responses’ (so I like to think) to a back burner of my brain. 

And then I glance at my watch. Class should have finished five minutes ago. 

In response to what I sense is the Spirit’s nudging, I point out the time. I’m not just being a wimp when I suggest that we wrap up. 

My teacher’s next words surprise me. “How about you sing me one of those Tibetan Christian songs I’ve been helping you learn before you go?” Never before has he asked me to actually sing. Usually we just go over the words and discuss the vocabulary.

I open the book to the song I’ve learnt most recently – one with a hauntingly beautiful Tibetan melody. I hear the patter of feet – my teacher’s wife is hurrying down the hallway. She stands in front of us with a broad smile as I stumble my way through a song in her language. It’s a very simple song, calling on all people on earth to praise Jehovah. 

And perhaps that is the best response I could give. This couple know about God, even though the concept of a Creator God is not part of their worldview.

That’s the bottom line. Jehovah exists – the pure one – the one who purifies us if only we throw ourselves on his mercy. He calls on us to recognise and praise him. What a privilege I have to sit in front of that shrine and do just that in stumbling Tibetan.

Homework

And that, my friends, was the story of the last ten minutes of my lesson yesterday. Now of course, I have to do a lot of homework. Much of it relates to language. But I also sensed God’s divine nudging to get this story down right away. I did that almost immediately in a voice-to-text note on my phone. And now I am writing it up in the form of a blog post.

Having been reminded again this past week that we participate with God in his work, and not the other way round, I hope that I will continue to act accordingly. I want to pay close attention both to the hospitable people I meet along the way as well as the one whose Spirit indwells me. I will keep learning to praise Jehovah in the language of the people from the mountaintops of Asia. And I will just be myself. That’s all I can do. That’s all God is asking of me. It’s his work, after all. 

I used to consider myself reasonably responsible in terms of creation care. I carry a keep cup for coffees on the road, everything recyclable goes into the correct bin and I spend extra on environmentally friendly tissues, paper towels and toilet paper rather than buy the cheaper alternatives. 

But all that fades into insignificance compared to what some others do. Last week I attended an inspirational evening focused on creation care*. It got me thinking … exploring Scripture … composting … shopping with awareness … and writing up this blog post. 

Rule and subdue

Right back in Genesis 1, man was given a mandate to ‘subdue’ the earth and to ‘have dominion over’ every living thing (Genesis 1:28 ESV). As God’s image-bearers, we care for creation. We don’t exploit it. But what struck me that evening, something which I had never noticed before, was the necessity of placing limits on that for which we care.

The next day, I sat on the porch in my little backyard with a modern Bible study tool as good as any which scholars centuries ago had at their fingertips … the iPhone. Noting the gangly roses in need of pruning and the weeds poking through the garden, not to mention the long grass, I opened BibleHub.com on the phone. Setting it to Genesis 1:28, I was able to see other ways the original Hebrew words had been translated. ‘Subdue’ and ‘rule’, ‘govern’ and ‘reign’, ‘bring creation under your control’ and ‘be master of creation’ – they all had a similar sense of man having a leadership role in creation, and, as such, imposing appropriate limits on creation.

Next I moved to the Hebrew terms for ‘rule’ and ‘have dominion’. Not being a Hebrew scholar, I clicked on the Strong’s Hebrew numbers to see how these terms were used in other parts of the Bible. I found a common idea of rule and dominion in the way that government leaders rule us common citizens, or as a victor rules a country it has taken. Within that is a sense of discipline, intended to keep that over which we rule within proper limits. 

Looking at the fat cat sitting by my feet, I gently but firmly told her, “It’s my job to care for you, Puss, so you are going on a diet.”  It will be hard. The cat spells ‘love’ like this: ‘F-O-O-D’. Next, I got up from the seat, slipped on gardening gloves and picked up the secateurs. If my roses are to enjoy exuberant growth next season, I must be prune them. The long grass can wait until a day when it hasn’t rained.

Caring for our environment 

If we are to ‘subdue’ and ‘have dominion’ over creation, we need to do so appropriately. We must not exploit creation for our own greed … our own wants … our own wealth. There are times when we need to step in, though, and keep things within appropriate limits, whether than be cane toads or blackberries or desertification … or household rubbish. 

Let me share a practical step I have taken since attending the creation care evening last week. It involves limitations on what goes where in my home. No, I haven’t become super tidy all of a sudden … I wish that were so. It’s more down-to-earth than that. 

It’s about the compost bin. 

I used to refrain from putting coffee grounds in it because I thought it would make the soil too acidic. And so I would put my coffee grounds in the rubbish bin. I hadn’t thought about the fact that when I send coffee grounds to landfill, they don’t get aerated nor do worms get to them. They don’t break down well. That’s not responsible creation care. 

So now I am putting both coffee grounds and shredded paper waste into my compost. Perhaps a corner of my backyard will be a little acidic. So be it. I will accept that limitation on my ‘right’ to have non-acidic non-alkaline compost. I wonder if the worms and slugs will get caffeine highs?

Don’t think that I am doing well, though. I have a long way to go in accepting limitations as I care for creation. As I cooked dinner last night, with eyes freshly opened to the importance of creation care, I was aghast at how much waste was involved. 

Putting together a tasty meal of chicken curry on rice, I used a green plastic tray and cling wrap (from the chicken thighs … chicken which was, incidentally, supposedly organic and free-range), a tin (from the coconut milk), a plastic tub (from the curry paste), plenty of vegetables (which are environmentally more-or-less okay – I take my own bag to a local vegetable shop) and a thick plastic bag (from the microwavable rice). That’s shocking! 

Caring for ourselves

Mankind was originally created from the soil, although with a special role and the breath of God in us. As creatures rather than the Creator, we need to be ‘ruled’ and ‘subdued’ too. When we work night and day, trying to be everything to everyone, eating fast rather than well, we are not living within the limits of our human-ness. Our actions suggest that we are trying to be God rather than God’s representatives. 

Just as I prune my roses and threaten to put the cat on a diet, so I must ‘rule’ and ‘dominate’ my own body. Taking a weekly day of rest, eating healthily, exercising appropriately, filling my mind with good stuff rather than rubbish – all this is part of living out my faith.

Parents are usually careful about what goes into a child’s mind and body, and ensure that they get adequate rest, exercise and relaxation. But it seems ‘selfish’ to do it for ourselves as adults.

It’s not selfish. It’s part of accepting our limitations, and of ruling and having dominion over ourselves. 

Caring for one another

Caring for others also means imposing limitations at times. This isn’t something that our society always likes to hear. 

As a community, we sometimes act like we are God rather than God’s representatives. There are times our society oversteps God-ordained limits in matters including, though not limited to, sexuality, the ‘right’ to choose life (before birth or as death approaches), unhealthy things we put in our minds (what we watch, read, listen to, online games, gambling etc), and food and beverage options promoted by big businesses.

As Christians, we must care for creation. It’s part of our Biblical mandate. And that means impacting our society, doing what we can to place healthy limits on our fellow humans. We don’t want to be old fuddy-duddies, but as far as we can, we need to be a voice in our workplaces, community groups, action groups and government. We need to agitate appropriately for what is right, good and healthy.

Where do we start? 

At home.

Since attending that inspirational evening on creation care last week I have imposed a few more limits on my garden, on my body, and continue to do what I can in society. The cat’s weight, however, remains a challenge.

And now, as I write, it is time for dinner … chicken fried rice … using up the leftover chicken and rice from yesterday, albeit it with all the plastic packaging. That is a challenge for another day. I will enjoy my meal in front of a favourite TV show. (I think ‘The Voice’ falls within the limits of what is healthy for my mind.) The cat will gaze at my bowl and beg, and I daresay I will succumb. I usually do when there is meat on the plate. I still have a long way to go in imposing limits on myself, my immediate environment and on the cat.

At least the compost bin is filling up. It’s a start. 

* The evening event on the topic of creation care to which I referred, Kingdom Gardeners, was put on by Interserve Australia and La Rocha. Don’t blame them for everything in the blog post, though. They just got me thinking.

It’s the end of semester and time to review. Revision is important for consolidation of learning. That’s what I tell my English language students. Their end-of-semester test is next Friday.

Saturday was, for me, a scheduled mini-retreat. It was a lovely day and I had a hankering for the beach. So I packed my journal, Bible and pen and headed to Mornington. Often a significant theme emerges when I take time like this, but this past weekend, it was more a review of lessons from the past four years. 

How do we know if God is speaking to us personally? We cannot categorically say ‘Thus says the Lord’ unless it is a direct quote from God’s Word. However, aware of the gentle nudges of God’s spirit within me, especially when I consciously stop and quieten my mind before God, I sometimes have a sixth sense of what he wants to communicate. It is nothing audible – nothing written – nothing black-and-white. 

That’s the disclaimer. Now let me share with you some lessons which I sensed God reviewed with me down on the Mornington Peninsula, near Melbourne, on Saturday. 

Walk in the light

“Walk in the light as he is in the light….” (1 John 1:7). I meditated long and hard on this verse by this same body of water about four years ago when I had just returned from Asia. I blogged about it then too*.

If you look up 1 John in your Bible, you will see that the context of this verse about walking in the light is being vulnerable about our weaknesses and sin rather than pretending to have it all together. John, the writer, urges us to admit our weaknesses and faults to God. Vulnerability is something I’ve practised plenty these past few years, with health hassles and related weaknesses.

Four years ago, I was challenged that my call was to ‘walk in the light’ rather than to go somewhere specific or be someone important. The work is God’s and not mine.

This past weekend, it seems that God had a slightly different application for me. I need to live well in the light of God, hiding nothing nor pretending to ‘have it all together’.

This was confirmed the next day.  A visiting speaker at my church preached on these words of Jesus:  “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). 

Our speaker pointed out that Jesus spoke those words to religious leaders, among others. He went on to explain that part of that call to ‘walk in the light’ is to call on the Spirit’s help to free us from habits and other things that enslave us.

 It’s not all about me, but I love it when ‘co-incidences’ such as this happen.

Time to play

I was prepared for a full day of deep and meaningful ponderings – pleasurable, yes, but not playful. However, that isn’t what happened.

Leaving the waterside for some shade and space to journal, I came across a live band on a street corner! It turns out that this weekend was the annual winter music festival in Mornington.

But I had serious work to do, so after ten minutes of soaking in the atmosphere and admiring the uninhibited dances of children in the crowd, I continued on my way.

Then I saw a movie theatre. A film I’d wanted to see and missed in my area (Red Joan – historical fiction) was playing. The next showing was about to start.  

A quick prayer and I was convinced. God was giving me a lovely gift of a day out. Who was I to say, “No thank you … my work is more important than your gift”?!

This reminded me of a lesson that I keep coming back to. ‘Ministry’ is not about me and my work. It’s about God and his work. He gives us the privilege of taking part in his work, yes, but ultimately it’s his work. 

And along the way, he blesses our socks off!

Shells

Shells have been a precious symbol to me for several years now. Their beauty, even when broken, reminds me of how God sees us. I wrote about that on another blog site a few years back*.

A year later, on a beach at Avoca (on the Central Coast of NSW), I admired shells which were firmly attached to rocks. Despite the battering of the ocean, the little creatures within those shells remained secure, not because of their own abilities, but because they clung to the immovable rock.

Here is a little haiku, written just today and inspired by the shells on rocks at Mornington:

Clinging to firm rocks 
Sea slugs in shells – weak but strong
In calm or tumult

Flight Feathers

Six months ago, flight feathers became a theme in my contemplations. I kept stumbling across them, whether in my backyard or when out walking. On a half-day retreat at Mt Dandenong (very near home), I tried to photograph a kookaburra but instead captured just his flight feathers as he took off. (That’s written up in an earlier blog post on this site.)

I was sitting quietly on a low wall on Saturday, trying to meditate on God as I watched the sun set over the bay. A seagull landed just a few feet from where I sat. I snapped a few shots on my phone camera, none of which turned out well. However, I did get reasonably clear pictures of its flight feathers and feet when it took off. I laughed to myself at the ‘bad’ photos that were special again because of the flight feathers.

Four years ago, a quote from a book jumped out at me (so it seemed) in quite significant circumstances. I have blogged about this before too*.

J.I Packer wrote, “One of the disciplines to which the Lord calls us is the willingness, from time to time, not to be used in significant ministry…. Imagine, now, a devoted and gifted Christian woman, whose ministry has been precious to her, finding that for quite a long period the Lord sidelines her so that her potential is not being used. …. The Lord is reminding her that her life does not depend on her finding that people need her…. Regarding her ministry, what matters is that she should be available to Him. Then He will decide when and how to put her to service again and she should leave that with Him.”  (J.I. Packer, 1994, Rediscovering Holiness pp199-200.) 

More seagulls swooped over the bay as the sun grew lower in the sky. Could it be that God was whispering to me, “It’s time to fly again”?  Is my period of being metaphorically ‘grounded’ coming to an end? Or was I just hearing what I wanted to hear?

Only time will tell. But it was surely no coincidence that my phone (which I had set to silent but was using as a camera) lit up right then with a significant message about planned travel in Asia later this year.

Summary

My retreat day felt like a review of the past four years. Beauty – leisure – shells – birds – the day held a healthy dose of each.

My takeaway message from the day was this:  God is on the throne. I don’t need to save the world. I just need to walk in the light, cling to the rock, and enjoy all that he has for me. And I wonder, I just wonder, if my ministry ‘usefulness’ is about to increase again. 

The review retreat day is done. I hope that the test, should there be one, is straightforward. 

(* Footnote:  I have referred a few times throughout to experiences which I wrote up in earlier blog posts on another site. That’s a blog which I kept throughout cancer treatment and which I hope to turn into a small book one day:  https://developingpassionatepatience.blogspot.com  )

It’s Dragon Boat Festival today! This Chinese holiday falls on the 5th day of the 5th month of the lunar calendar. Although most people in China enjoy special foods, a public holiday, and some watch exciting dragon boat races today, the origins of this holiday are sombre. The Dragon Boat Festival commemorates the tragic passing of an ancient patriotic poet, Qu Yuan. 

What does Dragon Boat Festival have to do with Christians? It’s a secular holiday, but there are points of connection with the gospel in a back-to-front sort of way. Let me explain. 

A good heart … a bad king

Qu Yuan, so the story goes, ardently loved his country. Even when he was misunderstood, doubted and exiled from the capital after trying to warn his king against an unwise political alliance, he still loved his country. 

This man lived in what is now part of China. His tragic story took place about three centuries before Jesus’ birth. That was the era when, much further west, Greeks ruled Israel and the Hebrew Scriptures were translated into the lingua franca of the day, Greek. 

Poetry was how Qu Yuan expressed his love and fears for his country. When it became apparent that his land was doomed, Qu Yuan drowned himself.

The Dragon Boat Festival is named such because local people went out in boats looking for his body.  

Tragic. 

Pathetic. 

Hopeless. 

Deceitful hearts … an all-seeing king

The God-above-time spoke the following words about 300 years before the day of the good-hearted Qu Yuan.

The heart is deceitful above all things
and beyond cure.
Who can understand it?
“I the Lord search the heart
and examine the mind,
to reward each person according to their conduct,
according to what their deeds deserve.”  (Jeremiah 17:9-10)

Wait. 

What? 

That’s not the stuff of modern injunctions to ‘Follow your good heart’. And yet it is God’s word. It seems that even the heart of the hard-done-by Qu Yuan was not pure. I know that my heart is far from pristine.

Language and Culture- an Aside

In English, we read in Jeremiah 17:10 that the Lord searches our hearts and examines our minds. 

In Chinese, we read that the Lord searches our hearts and examines our 肺腑 – literally lungs and internal organs, though metaphorically that means ‘the bottom of our hearts’.  

In Hebrew, we read that the Lord searches our hearts and examines our כְּלָי֑וֹת (kə·lā·yō·wṯ), which literally means kidneys, though metaphorically means minds. 

Hearts, minds, lungs, kidneys and any other parts of the body that represent what is truly ‘us’, the Lord knows it all. 

Comfort or Calamity?

Under the gaze of the holy One, who can stand? To the one who stands in his own strength and uprightness, this examination must surely end in calamity.

And yet, thankfully, the words about God examining our hearts and minds come in the broader context of Jeremiah 17. We learn there that the person who throws him or herself upon God’s mercy is preserved. 

God sees our hearts and accepts us, despite ourselves, when we trust in him. 

God sees us just as we are. No pretences are needed. False bravado is pointless. External sweetness and light won’t conceal internal negativity and knots. 

Not only that, but the Bible is full of precious promises about the transformation of our hearts and minds as we look to our Lord.

Hope

On this day, many people in Asia commemorate the patriotism of an ancient tragic character with a good heart. Despite his integrity, Qu Yuan was doubted and exiled by his beloved king. He died without hope. 

In contrast, modern Christians live as citizens of the kingdom of heaven. Our beloved king sees our confused hearts and accepts us just the same. We may well die, but we die with hope of a future resurrection, of imperishable spiritual bodies, and of pure hearts.  

There is still a battle waging, but ultimately, our king is victorious. Even now, he sees our hearts … our minds … our kidneys … our lungs … our organs … our all … and still he loves us and saves us. 

That’s worth celebrating! 

Change. It never stops. Is it possible that the rate of change is faster than ever these days? The internet, for example, has revolutionised many of our lives. Communications – written, spoken, face-to-face, one-to-one, in community and one to many – all this often happens over the internet now. Banking and payments, books, movies, TV shows, music to listen to, music notation to play, maps, notes, games, access to almost unlimited information, educational tools, coffee shop loyalty cards and more … all this is available on my phone wherever I have internet access. Also on my phone are the ever-watching eyes of big companies who want my business.

God, however, doesn’t change. That’s reassuring.

Our unchanging God is constantly at work in our ever-changing world, though. I’ve been reminded of late of the importance of keeping spiritually current as we participate in his work. Let me elaborate, referring to Mark 3:20-35 along the way. 

Pursuing Purity

I feel sorry for those teachers of the Law back in Jesus’ day. Jesus blasted them, and rightly so. But they tried so hard…….. I’m looking at the sorry tale recorded in Mark 3:22-30 as I write this blog post.

The people of first century Israel had learnt their lesson … finally. After centuries of repeatedly turning from God to idols, being divinely disciplined, eventually repenting and a remnant returning to God and to the land, they had finally got their act together, or so it seemed. No more idolatry. The Law of God was kept to the nth degree. The teachers of the Law held prestigious positions in society, reflecting the value that the people placed on their role as guardians of the faith. 

Then along came Jesus. “New wine in new wineskins,” he said (Mark 2:22). He “… went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God. ‘The time has come,’ he said. ‘The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!’” (Mark 1:14b-15)  The people were mesmerised, exclaiming, “A new teaching – and with authority!” (Mark 1:20) Jesus evicted evil spirits, healed people, claimed to be divine in roundabout ways … and made enemies amongst the religious leaders of the day. 

That’s not the way God had worked in the past. Oh yes, Jesus had power. That was indisputable. But, the religious leaders surmised, it couldn’t be of God. This left them with the so-very-wrong conclusion that earned them Jesus’ scathing indictment: “… but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven; they are guilty of an eternal sin” (Mark 3:29). 

Those religious leaders had become so caught up in their vital roles as preservers of the purity of God’s people that they had lost focus of the God they served.

What about us? Do I ever find myself so caught up in a God-given role that I lose focus of the God I serve? Do I ever miss being a part of what he is doing here and now because I am committed to preserving the way he did things in the past? 

I wonder, too, how these questions relate to brothers and sisters in a country I love in which Christian ministry is increasingly limited. Or to my role as a middle-aged woman with various limitations as opposed to the bouncy young woman who first visited that country 25 years ago.

One thing I do know is this: we need to keep spiritually current. May I keep my focus on my Lord, regularly taking time to put aside my own agenda and worship him, seeking him as each opportunity, threat or change of circumstance comes along. 

A Mother’s Heart

Oh Mary, dear Mary, how your heart must have throbbed the day your son – your special son – ignored you. It seems, even, that he disowned you that day. Ouch.

I’m thinking, of course, of the time that Jesus’ mother and brothers tried “… to take charge of him, for they said, “He is out of his mind’” (Mark 3:21).  Rather than go along with their well-meaning but oh-so-wrong intentions, Jesus identified those sitting around him that day as his mother and brothers. They were family, he said, and not his blood relatives waiting outside the door (Mark 3:34). 

Mothers know best, right? Not only that, but Mary was hand-picked by God to raise the Messiah. Mary knew God, and had a good track record of submitting to and participating in his work.

And yet, on this occasion, she lost focus. 

Mary was Jesus’ mother … but Jesus was Messiah. Mary was so focused on her God-given role that she lost focus of what matters … the work of her son, our Lord. 

How often do I focus on the role God has given me rather than God himself? I love my role and value my calling. I have a reasonable track record in my walk with God. That’s all well and good. But may living out that role never get in the way of focusing on my Lord. May it never be that my futile efforts to bring about what I think is best be out of line with what he is doing right here right now. 

Don’t worry. I’m not about to quit my role or anything. I’m just challenged to stay focused on him and be open to new ways he is working.

Devoted Disciples

“Then he (Jesus) looked at those seated in a circle round him and said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does God’s will is my brother and sister and mother’” (Mark 3:34-35). 

Who was seated around Jesus in that emotion-charged house, outside which Jesus’ mother and brothers waited, and inside which Teachers of the Law steamed with indignation at Jesus’ stunning rebuke?

Most likely, it was Jesus’ 12 disciples. In Mark’s gospel, we read of Jesus choosing them from amongst all those who followed him right before this scene in the house. (See Mark 3:13-19.) We read, “He appointed twelve that they might be with him and that he might send them out to preach and to have authority to drive out demons” (Mark 3:14-15).

Oh, those were the heady early days of the devoted disciples’ ministry. That was the season for them to ‘be with him’. The years ahead would be challenging. Judas Iscariot would betray Jesus, though his remorse would be pathetic and tragic. Peter would deny him though he would be restored. Later, Peter would be led unwillingly to his death in a way which would glorify God. Interestingly, the only disciple who seems to have lived a long and relatively settled life (until exile near the end) is the very one to whom Jesus entrusted the care of his beloved mother. Ah … Mary … I’m so pleased. 

But all that was yet to come. At this stage in the tale, the twelve sat around Jesus watching, wondering, waiting…… And it was them that Jesus called family. Even, it must be noted, the one who would betray him. 

What about us? I don’t know what is ahead, but I do know that, as we do God’s will, Jesus calls us ‘family’. And that massively motivates me to spend time in worship and prayer, looking to him to show me what he is doing in this day and hour, and asking how he would have me work with him. 

Doing God’s Will

What does it mean to do the will of God? That is a topic for books rather than a paragraph at the tail end of a blog post. For now, let me just say that being still from time to time and looking to God for direction in the busyness of life is important.

The Teachers of the Law in Jesus’ day did things as they had always been done. And in so doing, they missed the coming of the very God they strove so ardently to serve.

Mary, mother of our Lord, was focused on her God-given mothering role. So much so that she unwittingly sought to stand in his way and keep him from his work.

The disciples, however, at this point in the story, were simply focused on Jesus, following him step-by-step in his work of preaching and powerful actions. And, that day, at least, they had it right. 

What about us?  

Living by faith. It sounds grand and adventurous. And, in a sense, it is. But in another way, it’s an ordinary day-by-day process.

‘Father Abraham’ was the topic of an English class I taught recently. I, for one, was encouraged and challenged by a fresh look at this extraordinary and yet somewhat ordinary man who lived four millennia ago. We took Hebrews 11:8-19 as our text, using the New International Reader’s Version. That version is ideal for English language learners because it minimises the hurdle of uncommon words and convoluted sentences. 

Let me share with you a few insights which I gained from our lesson on this ‘hero of the faith’. I know that the students learnt lots of new vocabulary. They had opportunities to use English in real communication. I wonder if they learnt as much as I did , though, about living by faith? I wonder, too, if you will glean a few fresh insights by reading along as well?

Foundations

It’s the lack of indoor plumbing which would disgruntle me. Not that they likely even had indoor plumbing back in Mesopotamia (modern-day Iraq) where Abram spent his first 70 years. Hebrews 11, however, makes a bigger deal about the foundations of the city dwellings Abram called ‘home’ back then. (Abraham and Sarah were known as ‘Abram’ and ‘Sarai’ for most of their lives.)

In response to God’s call, Abram moved his family from homes with foundations into tents. It wasn’t just a camping trip. No – this was to become the ‘new normal’. They would be nomads for the rest of their lives. Mostly, anyhow. 

There were a few occasions along the way when various family members moved into sturdy houses. Lot and his family settled in the city of Sodom for a season. That ended badly. Very badly. Abram took his beautiful wife and settled in Egypt for a bit, during which time Sarai was ‘invited’ to live in the palace as a guest of the Pharaoh himself – an invitation which couldn’t be refused (Genesis 12). That the elderly couple’s half-truths resulted in a similar scenario being played out again at the invitation of another king (Genesis 20) hardly seems appropriate for a hero of the faith. The ‘stuff-ups’ made by Abraham and Sarah give me hope that my relationship with God isn’t based on me having it all together. 

The contrast between the settled lifestyle Abraham enjoyed the first half of his life and the nomadic nature of the second half makes me think of the lifestyle of Tibetans. Traditionally, Tibetans have either been either nomads or settled farmers. The two groups are fairly distinct. These days, however, there is also a significant Tibetan diaspora living outside the country, hoping vehemently to return one day to their homeland. 

Abraham went from being a settler in a house with foundations to a nomad living in tents. This was not because it was thrust upon him, but because of a call from God himself. He left his home willingly, but according to the writer of the letter to the Hebrews, his focus was on becoming a city-dweller again one day. We catch a glimpse of the city that he longed for in the book of Revelation.

Kids

It doesn’t make sense. How can you be promised descendants and a nation when you’re an old man and childless? Yet he was. Believing that promise made Abraham a hero of the faith. 

Not that he was perfect in the way he believed. Going along with his wife’s plan of how to bring about God’s promised miracle by their own means wasn’t one of his smarter moves. The resulting dysfunction in his family was crazily messy, though it did result in a precious revelation of God. The Creator revealed himself to Abraham’s second wife as ‘El Roi – the God who sees me’ (Genesis 16).

Finally, Isaac was born – the child whose name means ‘laughter’. At the time, the aged Sarah said, “God has given laughter to me. Everyone who hears about this will laugh with me” (Genesis 21:5 NIRV). I envy the blessing bestowed on the elderly lady, but don’t envy the ensuing complications in her life. And can you imagine what Sarah had to say when she heard details after Isaac got home from the expedition with his father to make that special sacrifice to God … the time when Isaac so almost WAS that sacrifice? What would a child psychologist make of that experience? 

In all that, Abraham and Sarah were held up as heroes of the faith. Once again, I am reminded that living by faith means trusting in Almighty God … but it doesn’t mean that I need to have my act together. I want to, and I try to, but I’m as human and complicated as elderly Sarah was. Yet, despite our imperfections, like Abraham’s rejected and dejected second wife, we are also known by El Roi, the God who sees us. 

Thinking and talking

The way Abraham and Sarah thought and talked about God’s promises demonstrated their faith (Hebrews 11:13b-16a). Thoughts precede action. Just ask any dieter about the importance of managing our thoughts if we are to gain control over what goes in our mouths. In more important matters, not only did Abraham and Sarah keep their thoughts fixed on what God had promised, but they also talked in a way that reflected their mindset. 

The Bible teaches us a lot about the importance of managing our thought lives. We are told to meditate on the Law of God (eg Psalm 1:2), to renew our minds (Romans 12:2), to think about things that are good (Philippians 4:8) and more. It seems, from what the writer to the Hebrews has to say about it, that this discipline of thinking godly thoughts and talking out of that mindset is a key aspect of living by faith.

How is my thought life? Some days, it doesn’t take much for me to spin into a frazzle of worry about money or health or frustration at the mess at home or my inability to achieve perfectionistic goals. While such matters will likely always hover around the periphery of my thought life, I want to make an unswerving focus on God the centre. I hope that the way I talk even about money matters or health concerns or mess or unmet expectations will reflect my relationship with El Roi, the God who sees me.

Abraham and Sarah didn’t have it all together, but even in the messiness of life, they lived by faith. As heroes of the faith, they are models for us fallen, broken people, for we have also been invited into a relationship with the God of Abraham, the God who sees us. As we bumble through life, sometimes getting a little off track but drawn back by a faithful and patient God time after time, may we also live by faith and so be examples to others who come after us.

I had a hap on the train today. No, not a nap, but a hap. 

‘Hap’ – it’s an old English word, coming from the same root word as ‘happen’. I usually like a modern translation of the Bible, but was recently taken with the term ‘hap’ as used in the King James version of the story of Ruth. (We studied Ruth at Bible Study Fellowship last week, which is why it is fresh on my mind.) 

As for Ruth, the KJV says that “… her hap was to light upon a part of the field belonging unto Boaz….” (Ruth 2:3 NIV). When I read more about the original language, I learned that there are two Hebrew words in that passage which could be translated as ‘It just so happened’. Doubling up these words emphasises the providential nature of Ruth’s hap. In fact, her hap would change the course of her life and of history, for the man in whose field the foreigner scavenged grain would become her kinsman-redeemer, husband and, along with her, the ancestor of kings and of our Lord Jesus Christ. 

A modern hap

I love Ruth’s story. My own hap today was a little bit special too. I am writing up this story to remind myself again of the hand of our providential God in my own life and to encourage you to look out for it in your life too. 

Today’s hap involved a random encounter on the train with someone I know only slightly. Let’s call her ‘Drolma’ for anonymity’s sake.

Drolma is Tibetan. There are not many Tibetans in Melbourne, and those that are here are scattered around the city. It’s not like Sydney where most live in the one area. 

I had decided to take the train to a meeting today rather than drive because I was feeling a bit overwhelmed with a lot happening this week. You can double your time on the train with reading or doing digital things on your phone, plus get steps on your FitBit besides. Which is why I had left home in plenty of time for the 8.40am train, taking with me a big fat book that I am slowly slowly plowing through. I got there ten minutes early but my train was a little late, then delayed until further notice, then finally, it was cancelled. 

Grump, grump, grump went the middle-aged lady with the big book. Yes, that was me. I had things to do and places to go and people to see. This wasn’t the start to the day that I had planned. 

Frustrations

I know in my head that my plans aren’t actually that important. Not in the big scheme of things, they’re not. I’ve written at length about this before. But I still tense my shoulders and furrow my brow when my plans are frustrated. 

It’s nothing like the ancient tale of woe that Ruth lived day in and day out in the lead-up to her hap. Perspective is hard to maintain some days.

A train finally came, half an hour after I had arrived at the station. I could have driven to my destination in that time and here I was, still back at the starting point. Eight carriages, each with three doors. I picked one at random. 

Two stations later was where I experienced the hap.  Drolma just happened to get on the same train … on the same carriage … entering through the same door near which I sat. “Long time, no see,” she commented. 

What made this a hap? 

Part of my stress for the day was that I had arranged to start back with Tibetan lessons this afternoon after a lengthy hiatus. I felt unprepared. I have been reviewing, reviewing and reviewing some more, but there is so much to remember.  I forget so quickly. 

“Please, Lord,” I had been praying this week, “If learning this language is a good use of time and money, could you affirm that? And if not, would you show me that too?” 

I don’t think I’m reading too much into it when I say that I sensed God’s hand in the way that Drolma got on ‘my’ train this morning. Something similar happened three years ago too, actually, when I first started Tibetan lessons and ran into her husband at a petrol station right after praying for wisdom about spending time and money on learning this language. 

In the case of the ancient Moabiteness, Ruth, the Bible says that “… her hap was to light upon a part of the field belonging unto Boaz….” (Ruth 2:3 NIV).

In the case of this modern Australian, my hap was to light upon a particular woman in a particular section of a particular carriage of a particular train … a woman whose people God has put on my heart.  I am taking this ‘hap’ as affirmation that I’m spending my time wisely.

Ruth’s story had a ‘happily ever after’ ending. I wonder where mine will end? 

Watch this space. 

The rainbow stretched from Kilsyth to Lilydale (both suburbs of Melbourne’s outer east).  

The original story is complicated. This little tale of how it intersects with the life of an ordinary Australian woman today is a tad convoluted too. I hope you enjoy it and find it thought-provoking, just the same. 

Perseverance

Two days ago, I taught a lesson about Noah to a class of English language learners. My aim was that these theology students from Asia would grasp vocabulary specific to that story and which is also applicable to church settings in Australia in which they currently serve. Such words included ‘righteousness’, ‘deliverance’ and ‘covenant’.

I have been challenged yet again recently to persevere with the dream of writing, but struggle to make time for writing a priority. This blog post on Noah, for example, was outlined yesterday but then I ran out of time to write it up. I then planned to write it up early this afternoon after a morning full of activities, but again, the time slipped away.

It was late afternoon and time to head out and meet a friend for a walk. I got in the car, looked up at the black sky, and went back inside for an umbrella. 

Umbrella by my side, I got into the car, backed out of the carport and drove towards Lilydale, a neighbouring suburb.

Halfway there, mulling over Noah’s story, this rainbow (pictured) appeared in the sky. The photo doesn’t do it justice. It was a brilliant full rainbow with a second arc faintly visible above it. I pulled up for a photo but was not in a position, quite literally, to capture in all in one shot.

It’s not all about me, I know.  But, from my perspective, the rainbow suggested a divine prompt that it is time for me to write up a few thoughts about Noah.

Looking Back

Rainbows are a sign of the covenant God made with the earth. Never again will our Creator destroy the earth by flood. 

The earth was a wicked place back then. We think it’s a mess now, and in many ways it is, but that’s nothing new. Back in Noah’s day,  God’s heart was grieved. My English language students wrote down the noun ‘grief’ and the verb ‘to grieve’. They could be useful words in pastoral work.

As an aside, I wonder what I do … what we do … that grieves God today? Ephesians 4 (particularly the second half of the chapter) suggests that we grieve his spirit whenever we live in ways which are not not right in his eyes. 

To be fair, the depravity of Noah’s generation wasn’t entirely their fault, as I understand Genesis 6. Beings from the spirit world had intermarried with humans. Their descendants were giants and heroes of the day – people to be admired.  (‘Descendants’ was another new word for my students.) 

In that context of wickedness, we meet Noah, ‘a preacher of righteousness’ according to 2 Peter 2:5.  

‘Righteousness’ is a rather important word for theological students. I told them that Noah kept urging his peers, “Do what is RIGHT!” Right – righteous – righteousness … breaking words down to their roots is a helpful strategy for English language students.  

Noah’s peers did not listen. And they were judged. ‘To judge’ (verb), ‘a judge’ (noun) and ‘judgement’ (noun) were added to the list of new vocabulary, the latter somewhat complicated by different spelling conventions in British and American English. 

The rain poured down and underground waters gushed up. The verbs ‘to pour’ and ‘to gush’ were added to the list of new words in our lesson.  Every living thing on the face of the earth was wiped out. 

‘Wiped out’? Most students were familiar with the verb ‘to wipe’. But, they asked, what is the difference between ‘to wipe out’, ‘to wipe on’, ’to wipe off’, ’to wipe away’, ‘to wipe up’ and just plain old ‘to wipe’? 

Birds – a potential tangle for translators

I had the students tell me the story of Noah’s ark before I taught what I expected would be new to them. I wanted to see what English words they already knew and I wanted them to genuinely need the vocabulary they were about to learn. 

To my surprise, the students informed me that, after the floodwaters began to recede, Noah first sent out a crow, then later a pigeon. I tried to gently correct the students. 

“He sent a raven first – a big black bird.”  

“No, it was a crow.”  The students were adamant.

It turns out that, in the Chinese version of this tale, the word used – 乌鸦 – can be translated as both ‘crow’ and ‘raven’.  Some of the students were familiar with the English word ‘crow’, but none had yet come across the word ‘raven’. 

Being a bird that eats dead creatures as well as being a bird of prey, I tend to think negatively of ravens. In Tibetan culture, however, both crows and ravens symbolise good luck. I wonder what connotations, if any, ravens had in Noah’s day. That train of thought is a rabbit trail not to be pursued in an English lesson, fascinating though it be. 

As for pigeons and doves, I have encountered this confusion before. Again, in Chinese, the one word 鸽子 refers to both pigeons and doves. Having had a flying pigeon do its business right over my head in a city square in Sydney, I think of pigeons as dirty little creatures. In Chinese cities twenty or thirty years ago, ‘Flying Pigeon’ bicycles were ubiquitous. I suspect that the name ‘Flying Pigeon’ was intended to bring to mind an image of graceful birds swooping about town. Though I rode a Flying Pigeon bicycle for years, that imagery never worked for me. 

These tangents weren’t relevant in the English lesson but they are important for translators of the Bible to consider. What a challenging but purposeful role Bible translators have.

A Sign and a Cycle

The story of Noah finishes with hope and a future. 

After surviving cramped conditions for over a year, some animals were finally released only to be sacrificed by Noah as burnt offerings. And God was pleased. He made a covenant (yes ‘covenant’ was a new word for the students) with Noah, his descendants and the earth.

The rainbow image was a lovely way to finish this story. Yet it was not just an end but also also a beginning. Sadly, in just this first post-flood generation alone, sin would again tarnish God’s creation. Down, down, down humanity would spiral … again. 

The story of Noah illustrates a pattern repeated over and over in Scripture. It is a pattern of judgement, mercy and deliverance. ‘Deliverance’, a new word for most students, comes from the verb ‘to deliver’, a word with which the students are more familiar. Australia Post delivers parcels … sometimes. Mothers deliver babies. Something is taken from one setting to another and given a new start. Noah’s family were delivered. We enjoy deliverance too if we trust Jesus as Lord and Saviour. 

Ultimately the story of Noah points to Jesus. He not only delivers us for a season, but he will restore all creation, including things on earth and in the heavens.  The apostle Peter has some interesting points to make about just how the story of Noah pointed to Jesus. Turn to 1 Peter 3:1 8-22 and 2 Peter 2:5 if you are interested. I am fascinated by it, but glad that, as a mere English language teacher, I am not expected to understand it fully, let alone explain it. Next week, we will consider English vocabulary related to the rite of baptism. It is a natural segue since Peter likens the floodwaters of Noah’s day to the waters of baptism.

Today, as I admired the gorgeous double rainbow, I was reminded afresh of the fact that, like Noah, we serve a powerful God who is holy and pure and yet still perseveres with us. 

And that, in any language, is amazing. 

Red, gold and brown leaves flutter to the ground. This is my favourite season here in Australia.  Although I could do without the brown leaves in my backyard, whose only redeeming feature is the satisfying ‘crunch’ they make when you walk on them. 

落叶归根 – luo ye gui gen – falling leaves return to their roots.  Taken literally, this Chinese proverbs describes the way that dead or dying leaves, fallen from a tree, break down and provide nutrients for the roots of the very same tree. Figuratively, it describes the way that elderly people sometimes want to go back to their homeland so that they can die there. 

Homeland … where is my homeland? In China, most people could tell you the name of their 老家 – lao jia – ancestral home. Not so for most Australians. In one sense, I’m a tiny bit confused about where my roots are. But in another sense, I’m as clear as can be. As Christians, our home is in heaven (Philippians 3:20). “Absent from the body and at home with the Lord” (2 Corinthians 5:8) … what hope we have! 

The 50+ checks

“I’m having the 50+ checks right now,” the lady on the exercise machine next to me at the gym-for-middle-aged-women said today. (That’s not the name of the gym, of course. It just describes it.)  The rest of us looked puzzled. “Boobs and bowels,” she explained in blunt Aussie terms.  It turns out that she is waiting anxiously for a phone call that she hopes never to receive. Her friend had received a telephone call after a routine mammogram and gone on to months of potentially life-saving treatment. My exercise buddy, however, is hoping for a simple email to say, “Thank you for coming to the breast-screening clinic recently. We are pleased to let you know that……”

I know what it is like to wait anxiously for phone calls you don’t want to receive. Even now, every time the phone displays ‘No caller ID’, my heart both plummets and pounds. That used to be the hospital calling to say, “We need another test,” or “The scans are not clear,” or “This is the next stage of your treatment plan.”  

Whether it is now or later, the fact is that all of us will one day be like the leaves that fall from deciduous trees in autumn. The question is whether we fall in a blaze of colour and glory, or whether we shrivel up and drop off like the the crunchy bits of brown that litter my porch these days. 

An Aged Gent

We rarely think of the ancient King David as an aged gentleman, but that he was at the end of his life. It was then that he put quill to parchment … or fingers to lyre strings … or dictated words to a scribe … or whatever they did back then, and left us with Psalm 71. This is a psalm which portrays someone going out in a blaze of colour. 

That wasn’t to say that he was confident. He wasn’t. He was nervous. He was anxious. He didn’t try to pretend that everything was okay. But in the midst of it all, he consciously turned his focus to his Maker.  

King David wasn’t nervous about calls from medical professionals. His concerns were more immediate. As his physical abilities decreased, he was afraid that his enemies would conspire to kill him. It might have even been his son, Absalom, whom he feared would try to ‘knock him off’. 

Psalm 71 is one of those ‘bulls eye’ psalms, the ‘bulls eye structure’ more formally called a ‘chiasm’, where similar ideas form rings around a central focus. It is a form of poetry where the matching concepts and structure reflect or contrast one another throughout. Pull out a Bible, if you’re interested, and see what I mean. I will list just a few key words from each section below.

A summary of Psalm 71

Going out in a blaze of colour

King David went out in a blaze of colour. Thinking back to the analogy of autumn leaves, he was like a tree to which photographers flock. Not for him an ignominious end. 

Of course, very few of us have the luxury of leaving the legacy of poetry and kingdom that David did. However, all of us can echo similar sentiments of trust in this same faithful God. All of us can pour out our hearts, laying before God our concerns in the autumn of life, and at the same time constantly coming back to a place of confidence in our Creator. 

‘Go out in a blaze of colour’ is easy advice to give when I’m a 50+ middle-aged woman who has ‘passed’ round one of the 50+ tests. It’s easy advice to give when the chapter of dreaded ‘no caller ID’ phone calls is, God willing, behind me. But it’s not me giving the advice. It’s King David. 

Kingly advice

King David left us with a model prayer for those in the autumn of life. The sentiments are as relevant now as it was back then, though the specifics vary. I often admire autumn leaves these days. And I find myself reflecting on the recent passing of not just one but several godly people who each went out in a blaze of colour. ‘This was her favourite coffee shop,’ I think. ‘That chair is where that dear man always sat,’ I note. They exemplified Psalm 71 in the autumn of life in glorious colour.

Others I know are going through exceptionally tough times even now as they await heaven – difficulties right up there with rebel sons contriving to overthrow one’s kingdom. In their tough times, I see them living out Psalm 71 in the autumn of life. I honour the God they serve because of their example. They are going out in a blaze of colour.

God is faithful. We needn’t pretend that we have it all together, but at the same time, we mustn’t lose sight of the faithful God in whom we take refuge.

落叶归根 – falling leaves return to their roots. When the autumn of my life comes, may I, too, return to my Creator in a blaze of colour. And may that be true for each of us whose citizenship is in heaven.

“It seems to me that if something comes across your path three times in a row, God is probably in it.”  This gem of wisdom, offered by a godly man a few weeks ago, has been echoing in my mind recently. Is there something particular which God is wanting me to understand right now, or is there just an inordinate number of feathers that keep, almost literally, coming across my path these days? 

Feather 1 – from a cockatoo

It was just lying there on what should be grass in my backyard. It was two days before I went away for a l-o-n-g stretch of meetings.  I had a sixth sense that God was behind its placement and timing, and was delighted, after posting the photo below on Facebook and asking about its asymmetry, to realise that it is a flight feather. After 3 1/2 years of taking life fairly gently for one reason or another, perhaps it is time for action again? Or was I reading too much into the presence of a simple feather in the backyard?

A prayer collage of feathers 

Have you ever done a prayer collage?  We sometimes do them at a particular gathering of friends, and I always find that God speaks to me as I stop and prayerfully flick through magazines. I had anticipated that this most recent collage, which I put together early in February, would feature fluffy feathers. I had been collecting magazines for the activity and had spotted a page which I fully intended to use. Only somebody else got to it first. The page of soft falling feathers was no longer available. You can see how the collage ended up. It is filled with other birds instead, most of which are soaring (though one is showing off). Significant? 

(Interestingly, I have since learned that the feathers used by birds for visual courtship are also flight feathers. They’re used for flirting rather than flight.) 

Feather 2 – a failed photo

After returning from that long trip, one of my first priorities was to take a half day retreat and pray about the year ahead. While doing that up in the hills near home, I happened upon a beautiful kookaburra sitting on a shelter. I crept closer, clicking my camera. Without a sound, the kookaburra took off, soaring through the trees. Would I have caught the perfect picture, I wondered, as it soared past the camera?  My shoulders sagged when I looked at the image. The kookaburra was too close and I had zoomed in too far. All I had were its wing feathers. 

Then, it struck me. Perhaps this was also from God. Flight feathers……

Feather 3 – from an Eastern rosella 

Two days after the failed photo episode, I had finally finished unpacking and sorting through the myriad of receipts, scribbled notes and candles and soaps (potential small gifts) from my recent trip. I had taken the collage, trimmed it to size, and pinned it to my notice board. As I did so, I had taken the first feather (the cockatoo feather, above) and added it to the picture. “Is this really of you, Lord? One more flight feather that I can’t miss would be lovely if it is you speaking……”. 

The brightly coloured feather was literally right in my path the very next day. I wasn’t looking for it. I wasn’t even in a park or bushland. I was simply walking up a driveway to a friend’s front door. And there it was. Asymmetrical. Beautiful. Almost demanding to be taken home and treasured.

Pinions

This morning I spent time in Isaiah 40:31. I learned that the Hebrew word  אֵ֖בֶר (’ê·ḇer), usually translated ‘wings’ in that verse, literally means ‘pinions’.  When I looked up the meaning of the word ‘pinion’, I found that … yes, you guessed it … a ‘pinion’ is the outer part of a bird’s wing, including its flight feathers.  

In fact, some people clip the flight feathers of big birds specifically to prevent them flying away. The feathers will grow back after the birds moult but it effectively grounds them for a time.

In contrast, “… those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings (pinions) like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.”  (Isaiah 40:31 NIV)

How can we soar on wings like eagles? 

How do we renew our strength? How do we soar on wings like eagles? What is the secret to being a middle-aged woman who is full of energy, enthusiasm and action? Eat more vegetables? Take up jogging? Get to bed early each night? 

Isaiah clearly states, “The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom” (Isaiah 40:28 NIV).  It is this God who “gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak” (Isaiah 40:29).  

It’s not about what I do. It’s all about who God is. 

There is something I can do, though. Hope. Isaiah goes on to say that “… those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength.”  (Isaiah 40:31 NIV)

But HOW do I ‘hope in the LORD’?  The next verse, addressed to nations, rather than individuals, finally, at long last, gives me something specific that I can DO. 

“Be silent before me, you islands! Let the nations renew their strength!” (Isaiah 41:1a NIV).

Silence. 

Contemplative Prayer

Contemplative prayer is something I have been exploring, as you may know from earlier blog posts. And today, as I look at what are now ‘my’ feathers mounted on my collage, I sense that God is reminding me that everything I do and am is only because of him. Times of silence before God is the best I can contribute. 

I very much hope that there is a season of productivity and ‘soaring’ ahead for me. I have a sneaking suspicion that there is. Time will tell. 

One thing I do know for certain is this. When we put our hope in the LORD, the Creator, the Untiring, Unchanging and All-knowing One, we can’t go wrong. 

And in the meantime, I intend to do all I can to make the soaring happen. ‘All I can do’  isn’t terribly energetic. It is just this:

Silence