Aussie Rambling Rose

Such affrontery.

I was leading a devotion on Isaiah 7. I had intended to emphasise the amazing promise of ‘Immanuel, God with us’ (Isaiah 7:14) but what niggled in my own heart that evening was the affrontery of audacious Ahaz. 

In Isaiah 7:10-12, we read, “Again the Lord spoke to Ahaz, “Ask the Lord your God for a sign, whether in the deepest depths or in the highest heights.” But Ahaz said, “I will not ask; I will not put the Lord to the test.”

Who says, “I will not…” to God Almighty? Even if your words are padded with piety? 

 I finished the evening devotion with the challenge, “Is God offering you an invitation of any sort? What is your response?” 

Was it God? Was it me? Did I sense a divine whisper, “‘Ask me for a sign”? 

A sign of what?

A sign? A sign of what? My situation is quite different to Ahaz’ – he was in dire straits and had the prophet Isaiah standing in front of him. And I’m not about to take God’s words to Ahaz in a particular time and place and apply them willy-nilly to myself. Eisogesis, that is called, and I don’t approve of it.

But do I believe that God can and does communicate with us today? Yes indeed. It’s my interpretation of what is divine and what are just my own ideas that is in question. As a modern Western woman, I tend to see the two as quite distinct. People in some other cultures see the spiritual and the natural as integrated seamlessly. I am, however, a product of my culture.

It couldn’t hurt, could it? In God’s amazing kindness, he has already fulfilled the sign promised so many millennia ago to Ahaz of ‘Immanuel, God with us,” showing that deliverance was at hand. It was at hand for Ahaz (though in the context of judgement) and salvation is at hand for us too. That’s the ‘big’ sign. But perhaps he has a ‘little’ sign for me in this day and age as well?

What could be ‘the sign’?

This past year, ‘flight feathers’ have been a repeated theme, and one which I interpret as a sign from God. I have blogged about that before.

Over the past 4 1/2 years, since returning to Australia and dealing with health crises, shells have been a repeated theme. Yes, there are blog posts on that too.

And since first committing to long-term cross-cultural work as an impressionable young woman 30+ years ago, roses have been a repeated theme. How blessed am I to have God continually remind me of his presence and involvement in my life?! 

And so I asked for a sign. A sign of what, I’m not 100% sure, but it would be lovely to be reminded of God’s hand in and on my life, and he knows that my greatest wish is to be useful in his kingdom work. 

What would be the sign? Roses again? Shells? Flight feathers? Whatever God chooses to give, I would receive gratefully. It was the Monday morning of a two day ladies retreat. I asked, humbly, not in a demanding way … but I did ask for a sign … again.

A rose

Later that same day, I returned to my room for a half hour rest. I lay on the bed, eyes closed, thinking again about the request earlier that day for a sign. Opening my eyes, I looked at the single rose on the desk, silhouetted against the bright light outside. It was pretty. I picked up my iPad and snapped a photo. 

When I looked at the iPad screen, the photo was like none other. The sunlight seemed to have been refracted by the flyscreen on the windows, creating quite an amazing pattern of light around the beautiful bloom.

Was this my ‘sign’? 

A shell

After regrouping with the other ladies, a friend said, “Come and admire some beautiful blossoms on a gum tree outside.”  I picked up my iPad (for the camera) and followed her. The gum blossoms were pretty but what really astonished me in a place far from the ocean was a shell, mostly buried by my feet! 

The shell wasn’t perfect but it was pretty. It was very similar in shape and markings to that which God had first brought to my attention and which had encouraged me a lot 4 1/2 years ago. 

Was this my ‘sign’? 

A feather

On the Tuesday, our last day of retreat, I spotted a beautiful feather. It was another flight feather (obvious by its lopsided-ness). I pocketed it, wondering if this could be my sign.

The following day, back at home, sitting on the back porch pondering these things, a young magpie flew down and started strutting around in front of me.  I tried to shoo it away … I was worried about the cat pouncing on it. Its parents also swooped down and tried to move it along. It would not be dissuaded, however. It continued strutting for a good ten or fifteen minutes, the cat watching on with interest but inaction. 

It occurred to me that the feather in my hand probably came from a bird just like this. 

Was this my ‘sign’?

Flight feathers

Then yesterday, a couple of weeks after the retreat, as I started to draft this post, I spotted another young magpie in a tree practising its warbling. As I lifted my trusty iPad to take a photo, a noisy miner bird flew into the picture, its flight feathers beautifully displayed. Flight feathers again……

Was this my ‘sign’? 

If the prophet Isaiah were to sit on my porch and ‘have a cuppa’ with me, perhaps he could explain matters more succinctly. Nevertheless, I am pretty sure that our Heavenly Father has kindly given me sign upon sign over the past couple of weeks to remind me that he is intimately involved in my life. 

Participating in God’s work

I sense … I hope … that the ‘go slow’ season of the past few years is coming to an end and that I’m ready to fly again. I am a bit of a battered old shell these days. I think back to the idealistic young woman who was preparing to head to Asia 25 years ago (I left Australia indefinitely, so I thought, on April 1^st, 1995) and am grateful as I recognise the hand of God in my life throughout the years. My role in God’s work these days is different to what it was back then … but God still has a role for me to play, nonetheless.

So what is ahead? Only God knows. As I write this blog post, I am preparing for another short trip which I hope will be significant in a variety of ways, including with academic pursuits. I have just been invited to present a paper on a related topic at an academic conference next year – something which I find both surprising and an honour. I suspect that all this may be part of the work that God has in mind for me in this current season of life. Time will tell.

What I do know without a doubt is that God is with us. Yes, in a general sense he is with us always. And in a special sense, God is with those of us who are his through his indwelling Holy Spirit – something that ancient Ahaz could have hardly foreseen. 

But in his kindness, through roses, shells and flight feathers, he has reminded me afresh that he is intimately involved in the details of my life. He still has a role for me to play in his work. 

Immanuel – God with us – hallelujah. 

Sitting in the waiting room at the Monash Cancer Centre this morning, an older lady on my left wrung her hands and tapped her foot repeatedly. On my right sat a lady about my age but with olive skin and an aquiline nose. Her head was covered with a black scarf and she wore a loose black coat and trousers. She curled up in a big chair and closed her eyes, stirring only when her hacking cough kicked in.

I was there for my four-year post-cancer check. Upon being informed that I remain ‘boringly normal’, my heart did a happy dance. As I left, a grin on my face and a spring in my step, I spotted the coughing Muslim lady slouched outside the radiation clinic. My smile faded and my heart sank on her behalf.

Fear……

Shaking hearts

It was in the context of fear that the promise of ‘Immanuel’, which we sing about at Christmas, was first announced. The ancient King Ahaz of Judah (8th century BC) heard that his two biggest enemies had made an alliance. And so “… the hearts of Ahaz and his people were shaken, as the trees of the forest are shaken by the wind” (Isaiah 7:2). 

The LORD told the prophet Isaiah to take his little boy, Shear-Jashub, whose name meant ‘A remnant will return’ (Isaiah 7:3), and pass on a message to the terrified king. (Take note of the name of the child … its significance will become clear later on.) 

“Be careful, keep calm and don’t be afraid,” was the first part of the message (Isaiah 7:4a).

“Do not lose heart because of these two smouldering stubs of firewood….” was the next line of the message (Isaiah 7:4b). From an earthly perspective, the enemy threat was ginormous, like a raging forest fire. But God’s perspective is far beyond ours, and they appeared as nothing but red embers to him.

As a sign that what God had promised would come to pass, King Ahaz was given a special sign, one which we sing about today.  “The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel….” (Isaiah 7:14b). 

Immanuel … God with us. It’s a precious promise, and even more so in those times when our hearts shake like the leaves of the trees are shaken by wind. 

Prophecy 

Prophecy is like a mountain range. Just as one mountain comes after another in a mountain range, so there can be layers of fulfilment with prophecy. No doubt in King Ahaz’ day, there was a young woman who gave birth to a child who was named ‘Immanuel’. In the message brought by Isaiah and his son, the terrifying enemy would be obliterated by the time promised child was old enough to distinguish wrong from right. 

But as any biblically literate reader knows, there was another layer of fulfilment to this prophecy. Hundreds of years later, Matthew would write up the story of the miraculous conception of Jesus, adding, “All this took place to fulfil what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” – which means “God with us” ” (Matthew 1:22-23). 

This child, Immanuel, is the one whose birth we celebrate at Christmas. One of my favourite carols, called ’Immanuel,’ by Michael Card (see the footnote for a link to listen online), contains the following lines: 

“Immanuel, our God is with us,
And if God is with us, who can stand against us?
Our God is with us, Immanuel.”

I would like to finish this devotion by pondering the wonderful truth of ‘Immanuel – God with us.’ But if I am to remain true to the text, I cannot. For that wasn’t the end of the story for King Ahaz and his people.

A Warning

“Ask the LORD your God for a sign, whether in the deepest depths or in the highest heights,” commanded the Lord (Isaiah 7:10). 

“I will not ask; I will not put the LORD to the test,” responded the king (Isaiah 7:12). 

On the surface, it sounded like King Ahaz was being pious. Israel had been in trouble in the past for putting God to the test. (See Exodus 17:1-7.) And yet I would suggest that the king’s piety and refusal to comply with God’s directive thinly disguised a sense of pride.

If only King Ahaz had seen the same vision of our awesome God in his holy temple which Isaiah saw and which is recorded just one chapter earlier in Isaiah 6. Surely he could not then have said, “I will not” to Almighty God. 

Do we ever say, “I will not” to God’s gracious invitation for this or that? 

In response to the refusal of King Ahaz to ask for a sign, God gave the sign of Immanuel. (See Isaiah 7:13-14.) And it wasn’t good news. For before the promised child was old enough to know right from wrong, not only would Judah’s enemies be vanquished, but Judah itself would be devastated by a bigger, stronger threat – Assyria. (See Isaiah 8:1-10.)

But in judgement lay mercy. This was foretold even right then by the name of the child standing by Isaiah. The child was named Shear-Jashub, meaning ‘A remnant will return’. 

From that remnant, hundreds of years later, a virgin would conceive. Her son would be called Immanuel, meaning ‘God with us’. The book of Isaiah is rich in prophecy about this promised one. 

Appropriate Fear

King Ahaz feared his nation’s enemies, and fair enough. The ladies in the cancer clinic today appeared nervous about their physical conditions, and fair enough. I don’t want to belittle their fears.

I do, however, want to turn my thoughts and perhaps yours to the God of Isaiah 6 who is frightening in his holiness. The prophet Isaiah wrote, “The LORD Almighty is the one you are to regard as holy, he is the one you are to fear, he is the one you are to dread, and he will be a sanctuary….” (Isaiah 8:13-14a).

It’s easy to write these words right now when life is going well for me. Feel free to remind me of this ancient wisdom when life is challenging. I so wish that I could have shared the hope of ‘Immanuel – God with us’ with the ladies sitting either side of me at the clinic this morning and extend God’s gracious invitation to them. 

For now, though, I shall finish with another stanza from that magnificent Christmas carol, Immanuel, written by Michael Card. I hope and pray that the ladies I sat by this morning hear this good news too, perhaps by caring Christians in their communities this Christmas … perhaps by you or by me.

“So what will be Your answer? Will You hear the call?
Of Him who did not spare His son but gave Him for us all.
On earth there is no power, there is no depth or height,
That could ever separate us from the love of God in Christ.
Immanuel, our God is with us,
And if God is with us who could stand against us?
Our God is with us,
Immanuel.” 

You can hear the carol ‘Immanuel’ by Michael Card here: https://www.worshiptogether.com/songs/immanuel-card/

Providence. The word comes from the same root as the verb ’to provide’. According to https://www.etymonline.com/word/providence, the word ‘providence’ is made up of a combination of two Latin words, ‘pro’ and ‘vider’ meaning ‘ahead’ and ‘to see’. 

I have many stories from the past few weeks of being provided for by the all-seeing, all-able, unlimited Divine Being. I would love to share a few with you. But let me also begin and conclude by thinking briefly about ‘providence’ in the Bible. 

‘Providence’ in the Bible

The word ‘providence’ only appears once in English translations of the Bible. It comes in a verse which sounds lovely out-of-context but was actually spoken in great anguish and bitterness. The ancient Job said, “You gave me life and showed me kindness, and in your providence watched over my spirit” (Job 10:12). He then went on to bemoan the fact that he’d ever been born. 

In Hebrew, the word translated ‘providence’ in Job 10:12 has the sense of ‘oversight’. 

And yet, despite the word ‘providence’ hardly being used in the Bible, the concept of providence is ALL through the Bible. Stories such Abraham’s servant finding a wife for the great patriarch Isaac, Joseph’s convoluted life experiences which ensured the survival of his family, Queen Esther’s crucial role in saving Israel and a fisherman catching a fish with a coin in its mouth all point to the overarching perspective and care of a God who sees. 

Story one – Wisdom

In our BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) study a few weeks ago, the question was asked, “What do you need wisdom for right now?” 

My response was this: “I have a crazy few weeks ahead. I don’t know how I’m going to fit everything in.” And there and then, I asked God for wisdom. 

The two big jobs on my desk at the time were (1) a paper for college on the Tibetan diaspora, and (2) a b-i-g translation project. Both were due at about the same time … or so I thought. After prayer, I prioritised the Tibetan diaspora research and writing. I resolved to just do what I could with the translation project but to make it lower priority. 

I learned SO much from the academic project. I was pleased with how it turned out. But I was disappointed to only get about 1/3 of the translation work done. 

“I’m so sorry. I will finish the rest as a volunteer next month.”  I drafted the letter to the college for which I was doing the translation. They had wanted it completed by mid-November, but I can’t burn the candle at both ends anymore. I didn’t send the email immediately because I wanted to look at the last piece I’d done with fresh eyes in the morning before sending it off.

In the meantime, the college contacted me.  The email said, “We are not in a rush for the translation work. We just need an estimated word count by the middle of the month so that we can get funds released for payment.” (The college makes a donation which is credited to my support. It is much appreciated.) 

What?! I was so pleased that I hadn’t cut corners with the study so as to make both deadlines. God sees and he had given wisdom when I’d asked. 

Story two – A Flight Delay

“Halleljuah, hallelujah, hallelu, hallelu, hallelujah!”  I literally sang a well-known segment of the Hallelujah Chorus when my phone beeped at 7am that Friday morning. The message informed me that my evening flight to Sydney that day had been cancelled. 

‘If only I had an extra half day to work on the computer,’ I had said, though, I confess, not prayed. My English language students had their last class that morning and I had yet to write the exam which they would sit the following week. A couple of students needed to sit the test early and so I had hoped to leave their exam paper with the office before heading north. 

And now, I had that extra half day. The airline rescheduled me onto an early morning flight the following day. It didn’t impact my commitments in NSW. I set the exam paper and sent it through to the office before I left. And then enjoyed a most spectacular sunrise over Sydney as I flew in too. Bonus!

Again, the One who sees all provided for me, and I’m grateful. 

Story Three: Children matter

Earlier in the year, I had expected to visit a supporting church. However, other things cropped up. The church asked if I could postpone the visit until November and I was very pleased because it suited me well too.

The rescheduled visit (and a number of other visits which I planned around it) happened two weeks ago. I had only intended to visit the ‘big people’ in the church – that’s what usually happens. However, the trip coincided perfectly with the curriculum that the ‘little people’ in the church were following.

The week before my visit, the children had learnt about Gladys Alyward, one of my personal ‘heroes of the faith’, a lady with family connections to my father and in whose footsteps I have more-or-less followed in Asia. I was asked, “Would I visit the children’s programme and answer a few questions?” Would I ever!

The children’s questions were delightful and creative. Their teacher … a dear man who was MY Sunday school teacher in that same church almost thirty years ago … eventually had to call the session to an end because of time. 

Jesus referred to children as being the most important in the kingdom of God (Matthew 18). When I see how he ordered their programme and mine so that my visit was perfectly timed to enhance their learning, I am not surprised. But I am grateful. I love being useful in kingdom matters. 

Job

Bad things happen to good people. I can’t assume that everything will always work out well for me because I follow God. After all, Jesus promised that ‘In this world you will have trouble.’ 

Centuries before Jesus said that, Job certainly experienced trouble. He complained bitterly … and understandably so. His comment that, “You gave me life and showed me kindness, and in your providence watched over my spirit” (Job 10:12) came in the context of confusion and complaint about what happened later. 

But then God showed up (Job 38-41). 

Job may not have understood why he had suffered so badly but, by the end of the book, he understood that God was much bigger than him. 

Job’s words about God’s providence, though spoken from a limited perspective, are true … God watches over us in kindness. And sometimes, that includes his providence in our lives even when bad things happen to us for reasons we cannot fathom. 

Encouragement

By recording these little stories of God’s kindness to me in the good times, may I be encouraged in the difficult times too.  Perhaps you can take encouragement from this blog post as well.

Our God sees. He is beyond the limitations of time. And so I rest assured, working as hard as I can but not stressing about trying to do the impossible. 

God sees. Hallelujah. 

In her youth, Iris was impetuous, idealistic, supremely confident, ready to burst out of her sheltered existence and make her presence felt in this world.

          Like an iris bud pushing its way out of its protective cocoon, there was a great deal going on inside.

….Years passed….

As a middle-aged woman, Lady Iris had important roles in her community and was well loved. Her beauty was unrivalled but she was increasingly aware of her limits. She was productive in a measured and steady fashion.

         Like her namesake, she was comfortable in her identity, idiosyncrasies not withstanding.

….Years passed….

In her latter years, Grandma Iris exuded wisdom gained from experience and accentuated by distance from the action. Productivity was no longer the point.

      Like a wrinkled iris, her charm had past, though a wistful beauty gently emanated from the flower’s lines, swirls and fading colours.

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;

    but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.

Honour her for all that her hands have done,

    and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

Proverbs 31: 30 -31 (NIV)

I am against slavery, of course. But, oh, how lovely it would be to have somebody at my beck and call. If only I had a maid, my home would always be tidy. If only I had a gardener, my grass would always be neat. Somebody would bring me breakfast in bed every morning. Somebody needs to open the door for the cat right now, in fact. She is meowing plaintively by the back door, even as I draft this blog post. 

If only……

Somebody needs to serve the cat. That somebody would be me.

I don’t know why the cat wants to go out. It’s cold out there. I scurry back to bed and turn the electric blanket on.

Limbs as slaves

According to a portion of Romans 6 which I am listening to as I sit on … okay, IN … the bed this morning, I do have a slave. Several, in fact. In a fairly literal translation I’ve never used before, I hear this line: 

“… present your limbs as slaves to righteousness to achieve holiness.” (Romans 6:19 – follow the link in the footnote if you want to see where that translation came from – it’s not a standard version.)

My limbs can be slaves? I ponder this concept. My limbs are part of me. How can I present them as slaves? Surely Paul, the original writer, was being rather ‘Greek’ in the way he separated body and soul in this passage. 

But then, the Roman recipients of this letter lived in a society heavily impacted by Greek thinking. And slaves were commonplace there. Some of the people Paul wrote to were slaves themselves. In fact, Paul prefaced this explanation with the caveat, “I am speaking in human terms, because of the weakness of your frail humanity.” 

I am just as weak, and am glad for the human terms. Too often, Paul’s explanation are so abstract, I find them hard to follow. This, though, I can manage. I wonder whether, if he were writing in our day and age, he would use an analogy involving ‘Hey Siri’ or ‘Okay Google’.

Ridiculous uses for limbs

My lower limbs are being offered for a different purpose as I draft this blog post. The cat didn’t last long outside. It’s cold and drizzling. She is now on the bed with me, curled up against my leg. How can I move my legs? How ridiculous a thought it is to present my limbs as slaves to a cat. 

Sometimes I do things even more ridiculous with these limbs of mine. I use my hands to choose chocolate instead of carrots. (Though a little bit of chocolate now and then is okay.) Or I stretch my legs out on the footstool rather than on the cross-trainer. (Again, there is a time and place for relaxing, but generally I need more exercise.)  In the words of Paul, when I make these poor choices, I present my limbs ‘as slaves to impurity and lawlessness to achieve iniquity.’ 

Ugh. That sounds awful. Surely such little things don’t count as ‘impurity and lawlessness’? Surely they don’t lead to ‘iniquity’?

Paul goes on in the next chapter to write at length about his struggle with doing what he doesn’t want to do but not what he does want to do. Being the great missionary and teacher that he was by the time he wrote this letter, I can’t imagine that he did anything too awful on a daily basis. He was likely talking about first century ‘little stuff’ in the same way that my daily battles are over 21st century ‘little stuff’. Sobering……

Hope and despair

Thankfully, at the end of that long saga, Paul concludes with a note of hope even in despair. 

“What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God’s law, but in my sinful nature a slave to the law of sin.” (Romans 7:24-25 NIV)

Me too. I’m a wretched woman, though I don’t like to admit it. But I am a woman who is saved through Jesus.

A translation tangent

Rather than get out of my nice warm bed when the online devotional finishes, I dig a little deeper into the original words translated ‘limbs’ in the version quoted above. Biblehub.com tells me that the Greek that Paul used was ‘μέλη (melē) ὑμῶν (hymōn)’. It literally mean ‘parts of you’, ‘you’ being singular and not plural. So you and I, we are to present our parts – your parts and my parts – as slaves to righteousness.

I think about the day ahead. When I find my eye drawn to social media at a time when it should be on a work-related task, I will say to it, “Eye, I present you as a slave to righteousness.’ When it is time for morning tea, I shall take my arm, use it to open the fridge door, and, presenting it as a slave to righteousness, I shall make a good choice. When I am ready for a mental break, I shall offer my legs as slaves to righteousness and do some exercise instead of flopping on the couch. And so on through the day. That’s the plan, anyhow.

The first problem, however, is to get my legs off the bed. The cat is so very comfortable here, as am I.  I don’t want to present my limbs as slaves to anything. I just want to stay right here. 

And so the daily battle begins. 

Footnote: https://pray-as-you-go.org/player/prayer/2019-10-24 

“… And give my son Solomon an uncluttered and focused heart so that he can obey what you command, live by your directions and counsel, and carry through with building The Temple for which I have provided.” (1 Chronicles 29:19 The Message) 

I have been challenged this past week to pray for an uncluttered and focused heart. I even posted that prayer as a Facebook update. In the verse above, King David was praying about a particular role which God had in mind for Solomon. David would have dearly loved to have done it himself. The task was to build an impressive temple for the worship of God. My goals are much less lofty.

Perhaps God is answering my prayer, just the same. ‘De-cluttering’ is a theme which keeps cropping up these past few days.

Order

I admire people who live ordered and disciplined lives. I want to be like them. Until I have to work closely with them, that is. “Give me back a bit of creative chaos,” I mutter to myself when constrained to work on projects one step at a time, “… or I shall go quite, quite mad.”  

God has made us all differently.  As we work together, each living according to who she was created to be, we are called to ‘bear with one another in love’ (Colossians 4:2). When my super-ordered friends insist on strict structure and stress about uncertainties, I understand exactly what Paul meant by ‘bearing with one another in love.’ 

Although I am comfortable with a modicum of mayhem in my life, I need to knuckle down and focus these next few weeks. I have a couple of big deadlines looming. Perhaps that is why I have been thinking about clutter this week. Or, more to the point, perhaps that’s why our Lord has brought it to my attention. 

Cluttered homes

‘Declutter your home … now.’  The advertisements for an online decluttering course in my social media newsfeed are appealing. The truth is that when I declutter my pantry, fridge, freezer, wardrobe or drawers, I become aware of, value and use what is there. 

But I don’t have time to enrol in a programme or accept another challenge just now. My calendar is too cluttered.

Cluttered calendars

Why do I find myself with five commitments in a day? “It’s high priority,” I explain regarding each. But how many ‘high priorities’ can one have? Does ‘busyness’ make me feel needed? Valued? Important? Significant?  

What would happen if I declined an invitation to participate in a discussion, complete a translation project, attend a meeting or teach a class? What if I said ‘No’ to opportunities that are good, but which detract my attention from other commitments that are even better? 

Cluttered minds

Cluttered minds are surely a symptom of the age of the mobile phone. Always connected to everything and everyone, with dings, bells and whooshes alerting us to this or that, our attention is scattered, to put it mildly. 

While working on one project, I turn my attention to a small detail. I look it up on the internet, at which point, something else grabs my attention.Before I know it, I find myself off task, tempted by tantalising tangents. 

Modern responses

Mindfulness apps, meditation workshops, measuring brainwaves through semi-medical devices – all these are reasonable responses to this chronic problem of mental clutter. 

In Melbourne, at least, Western Buddhists are quick to pick up on this modern malaise and offer suggestions for dealing with it. I wish that we Christians would do better at tapping into this felt need in society, drawing on our rich heritage of Christian meditation.

One of my favourite ‘hacks’ to help me focus is the ‘pomodero technique’ . It’s a fancy name, but simply requires a kitchen timer and enough discipline to focus for 25 minutes at a time.

On my iPad, I have samples of seven intriguing books I want to read on how to knuckle down and focus … but have yet to knuckle down and focus and read them. 

An ancient perspective

A cluttered mind is perhaps a more pressing issue for the average modern person than it has ever been in history. Ancient truths about managing our minds are as true as when they were first recorded and perhaps more relevant than ever.

I’ve written before about the topic of meditation and how it is a theme throughout Scripture, usually in the context of meditating on God. I’ve dabbled in the life-giving practice of ‘contemplative prayer’ and blogged about that here too. There is plenty of teaching – explicit and implicit – in the Bible for us to know that we all have different roles in God’s kingdom work. We need not, and should not, attempt to be and do everything for everyone all the time.

Right now, as I find myself in another particularly busy patch of life (despite my resolve not to have a ‘busy’ mindset), I am reminded afresh of the need to commit my days to the Lord and ask for his help.

King David prayed that his son, Solomon, the newly coronated king, would have ‘an uncluttered and focused heart’. The purpose of this prayer was so that Solomon could (a) obey God and live according to his ways, and (b) get on with the particular job that God had given him. 

May that be our prayer too. May God give us ‘uncluttered and focused hearts’. The purpose of this prayer is NOT so that we can do or be the impossible. On the contrary, we ask for uncluttered and focused hearts so that we can (a) obey God and live according to his ways, and (b) get on with the job that God has given us.

And so…

Personally, I sense that regular writing projects are one of the tasks which God has given me. Even if nobody else were to read this piece on cluttered minds, the process of thinking and praying through it has been helpful.

A little bit of chaos feels creative. But not clutter. That’s detracting. It would be nice to de-clutter my home and my calendar … after my deadlines have been met, of course. Perhaps, though, the immediate challenge is to de-clutter my mind. 

For that, all I need is the Holy Spirit and a little discipline. Everything else will flow out of it. 

I wanted to try my hand at storytelling in this week’s blog post. It was to have been based on a tale we studied in BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) this past week. ‘Show, don’t tell,’ is good advice for story tellers. ‘Sights, sounds, textures, tastes, smells – focus on these,’ they say. 

But I can’t do it. 

It’s too gory. It would be too traumatic to fully enter into the story in my imagination. I was intending to put myself in the position of the main character in tale of 2 Samuel 21:7-14. Her name is Rizpah. 

Let me try, even though I won’t do it justice. I’ll weave between telling the story without calling on too many of the senses as well as a bit of commentary. There are no pictures this week … the topic is too heavy.

The story – part 1

Rizpah is an older woman. She is single, like me, but unlike me, she hasn’t always been so. Though neither has she exactly been married. She was once a royal concubine in the palace of King Saul. 

Back then, Rizpah had lain on a soft mattress, a newborn son in her arms, a toddler wriggling beside her. Her ears were attuned to every little sound her children made. Now an old woman, she lies on a rough piece of sackcloth spread on a rock. Her ears are ever alert for the sound of birds or wild animals.

Her sons’ bodies hang above her.

A little background 

I told you it was a gory tale.

Rizpah’s sons, along with five grandsons of King Saul, had been hung at the order of King David. This was to vindicate the deaths of many Gibeonites, a local people group, at the hand of King Saul some forty years earlier. In fact, some of the Gibeonites had served in God’s temple as wood cutters and water carriers. 

King Saul had ordered them slain because they were non-Israelites. Yet their people should have been guaranteed safety according to an old covenant made between Israel and the Gibeonites (see Joshua 9.) This clearly put Saul in the wrong. 

As a result, many years later, the land was stricken with famine. King David enquired of the Lord and was told that the cause of the drought was this broken covenant. He asked the remaining Gibeonites what it would take to atone for the evil done to them. The answer? The death of seven of Saul’s descendants.

Saul wasn’t the one who suffered for his actions. It was everyone affected by the famine, and particularly the seven who were killed as well as Rizpah whose heart was broken. It wasn’t the first time nor would it be the last that the sin of one person meant the suffering of innocents scattered in time and place.

There is no happy ending to this story, though there is a resolution of sorts. 

The story – part 2

A royal convoy approaches Rizpah. Workers respectfully take down the bodies of Rizpah’s sons and the other five bodies as well. They are laid in a covered cart. The decaying bodies are protected now from the rain which has finally come, as well as predators.

Rizpah is finally able to wash. Up until now, a quick squat to do the necessary was all she could manage because of the need to keep the bodies of her precious sons from being desecrated by animals. Her smelly rags are taken away. A royal servant provides Rizpah with clean clothes.

Rizpah accompanies the bodies in the cart. They are taken to the land of Benjamin. Evidently, the decapitated remains of the boys’ father as well as an uncle who died long before have been exhumed and brought here too. A funeral is held at the tomb of the boys’ grandfather. With great fanfare, her sons are laid to rest. 

If only

Now you see why I found it so hard to imagine myself in Rizpah’s sandals, let alone write up the story using all the senses. It is easier just to read the story as ancient history, a tale set in an era of violence, taking up only a few verses in the Bible. To think of this woman as one of us, a woman who lost her livelihood, and then, many years later, her only sons, is just unbearable. 

If only the former king had feared God and done what was right in God’s eyes regarding that earlier covenant…… 

It wasn’t Rizpah’s sin that led to her suffering. It wasn’t even her sons’ sin. They were probably not even born at the time of Saul’s foolish act, or if they were, they would have been very young. I  base this comment on the fact that they were killed near the end of David’s 40-year-reign, and Saul had the Gibeonites killed some time before that began. Rizpah, their mother, was strong enough to sleep rough and protect their bodies, so she was probably a young woman at the time of the slaughter of Gibeonites. 

Prophecy 

Substitionary death was a familiar concept to the people of that day.  Animals were regularly sacrificed as atonement offerings in worship. The lives of Rizpah’s sons (and five other men) were offered as an atonement sacrifice of sorts too, though it was an offering to the offended party and not to God. 

In a sense, the death of these seven men points to Jesus’ atoning death. By their death, the curse against the people was broken, the famine ended. Rizpah’s gut-wrenching grief also points to the pain Jesus’ mother would endure centuries later. Jesus’ atoning death cost those around him dearly too. 

Grief-stricken mothers are a motif throughout Scripture. In Jesus’ day, for example, we are told that a prophecy of Jeremiah was fulfilled through the slaughter of innocent baby boys by order of King Herod. The prophecy itself referred to the grief of another bereft mother many generations prior to Rizpah’s lifetime. Matthew’s gospel puts it like this:

“Then was fulfilled what was spoken by Jeremiah the prophet, saying:
“A voice was heard in Ramah,
Lamentation, weeping, and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children,
Refusing to be comforted,
Because they are no more.”
(Matthew 2:17-18 NKJV)

I doubt that poor Rizpah had any inkling that her pathos was a prophecy of sorts. It would have been fat comfort for her even if she did. 

The conclusion

Sin stinks. God’s mercy is immeasurable, yes, but sin is still like a pervading cancer in society. Sin impacts innocent people as well as, and sometimes even more than, the perpetrators. 

As we focus on the incredible grace shown to us through Jesus, let us never ever ever minimise the horrendous heart-wrenching horror of sin. 

The golden-wrapped confectionary bar is calling my name……

‘Navigating excellence in the art of living amongst a world of instant gratifcation’ was the subtitle of a book being promoted in the library. I took a closer look. “The authors argue our need to always feel comfortable, if not happy, has robbed us of achieving excellence in our own lives.” The book was written by two secular academics who use an ‘evidence-based approach’. (See footnote 1.)

I was interested to read more, but not today.  Right now, I have work to do for a class assignment. That’s why I came to the library. But the book blurb got me thinking. 

I swung by the supermarket on the way home for some groceries. I popped a poor excuse for a chocolate bar into my basket as I approached the checkout. At 85c, it was less than half its original price. But did I actually want it? Do I approve of the over packaging? Why did I even get it?  

Our society has gone mad. Quite, quite mad. 

Instant gratification

As I sat in the late afternoon traffic, the impulse buy called out to me from a bag in the footwell of the passenger seat. I pondered the proposition that our desire for instant gratification is hurting us.

Take me, for example. Why do I allow myself to be sucked into the vortex of unproductive time on social media? (Limited time there is okay, in my humble opinion.)  Why do I feed my body sugar and fat in forms that have no nutritional value? I would have have enjoyed blueberries and yoghurt much more than the ridiculous honeycomb bar I just bought. Why do I sit in front of the TV when the exercise machine beckons from the corner?

A spirit of self-discipline

That was yesterday. This morning, in my morning devotion, using an online Ignatian resource called Pray As You Go, I spent time in 2 Timothy 1. A British voice read these words: “… for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline” (2 Timothy 1:7).The word ‘self-discipline’ caught my attention.

Being a bit of a word nerd, I looked up key words in the original Greek on my iPad. After all, I had memorised that verse as a kid, but it was a bit different to this version. I remember ‘… a spirit of fear’ instead of ‘cowardice’, and ‘a sound mind’ instead of ‘self-discipline’. They’re similar concepts but not quite the same. 

This is what I learned.

A language lesson

πνεῦμα(pneuma) is translated ‘spirit’ in 2 Timothy 1:7. It has the sense of wind, breath and spirit. I think of the English word ‘pneumonia’ or ‘pneumatic’ which both come from this Greek word. 

δειλίας (deilias) is usually translated fear, timidity or cowardice. I think of the English phrase ‘dilly-dally’, which does not come from the Greek as far as I can tell. Just the same, I think it fair to say that we have NOT been given a spirit of dilly-dallying, let alone of fear, timidity or cowardice. I hope that I’m not handling the word of God irresponsibly here.

What is this spirit like, then, that God has given us? It is one of power δυνάμεως (dynameōs), from which we get the English word ‘dynamite’. It is a spirit of love ἀγάπης (agapēs) – a real deep love. And it involves σωφρονισμοῦ (sōphronismou) – self-discipline. It is this last attribute, self-discipline, into which I want to dig a little deeper. 

A sound mind

According to BibleHub (an online resource for Bible study), that rather cool-sounding word, σωφρονισμοῦ (sōphronismou), generally translated ‘a sound mind’ or ‘self-discipline’, is actually a complex word made up of two root words and three grammar markers.

The main word is ‘sophron’, pronounced ‘so’-frone’. ’Sophron’ is made up of (1) ’soos’, meaning ’safe’ and ‘sound’, and (2) ‘phren’ meaning ‘an inner outlook which regulates outward behaviour’. Now I understand why it is sometimes translated ‘a sound mind’ and other times translated as ‘self-discipline’ or ‘self-control’. The compound word has the sense that our actions come from a centre where we are ‘safe and sound’. To use more modern parlance, we are ‘centred’ in God. 

Women then and now

So where does all this leave me, a modern Christian women who has a tempting golden-wrapped treat in her home? Interestingly, my situation is not too different to that of older or middle-aged Christian women of Timothy’s era. 

We live in very different societies and eras, but consider the way Paul used the word ‘sophron’ in another context when advising young Pastor Titus on how to pastor a network of churches on the island of Crete. Incidentally, the Cretans had a reputation, by the admission of one of their own prophets, of being ‘liars’, ‘evil beasts’ and ‘lazy gluttons’ (Titus 1:12). Yikes – what an insult. But then, when I look at the rubbish I just bought and will consume, perhaps we are not so different today … not in the gluttony aspect, anyhow.

Paul wrote, “Older women, likewise, are to be reverent in their behaviour, not slanderers or addicted to much wine, but teachers of good. 4In this way they can train the young women to love their husbands and children, 5to be self-controlled, pure, managers of their households, kind, and subject to their own husbands, so that the word of God will not be discredited.” (Titus 2:3-5 NIV)

You might have noticed the word ‘self-controlled’ (verse 5) in the passage above. Paul uses the word σώφρονας (sōphronas) – yes, it comes from the same root word as sōphronismou, used in 2 Timothy 1:7. But that’s not the only place the ‘sophron’ word appears in the passage above. 

In verse 4, the older women are told ‘to train’ the young women. The Greek word translated ‘to train’ is actually σωφρονίζωσιν (sōphronizōsin).  Do you see it? There is that root word ‘sophron’ again. 

Paul’s instructions are that older women should live in such a self-controlled way that their example serves to train younger women who are perhaps, er, let us say ‘exploring their boundaries’. The very presence of the older women in their lives will serve to draw the young ones back into a centre of stability, soundness, safety and balance that comes with being God’s people. The older women are to train the younger women by their self-controlled lives.

As a middle-aged Christian woman living in an era of instant gratification, I am challenged by these words. Do I live in such a way that those who watch are ‘trained’ because of my ‘sophron’ self-controlled lifestyle?

Where to now? 

On the one hand, God has given us a spirit of power, love and a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7). But on the other hand, we have a responsibility to live with self-control (Titus 2:4). 

So where do I start? The following points will help me, I hope.

1.  Identify unhealthy habits of instant gratification, including overusing social media, mindless snacking and dilly-dallying.  

2. When tempted to indulge, wait five minutes and ask for divine help. It’s hard to intentionally do the wrong thing when you’re praying about it. That’s what is meant by the injunction to ’Walk in the light’ (1 John 1:7). If, however, I fail to withstand the temptation, I then need to confess my sin … yes, sin … as soon as possible afterwards (1 John 1:8-10).

3.  Be reasonable. Chocolate and chips are okay occasionally … and very dark chocolate is almost a health food, so I am told. 

4.  Community is important. We aren’t expected to live the Christian life without support (Hebrews 10:24-25). Blogging about it here is helpful too. 

Ask for the grace….

It’s easy enough to write about it. It’s harder to do it day by day, moment by moment. This afternoon, as I write, I have successfully resisted temptation twice – once with chocolate and once with social media.  However, there is still the evening to get through. When I am tired, I am more likely to give in to temptation, whether it be in the form of unhealthy food or too much social media or gossip or something else entirely.

Having succumbed in the supermarket, the enticing treat is now in the freezer where I will forget about it for a while. Ironically, it is tucked behind frozen vegetables proudly displaying their five star health rating. One day, I shall pull it out and enjoy the treat – it will be a choice made with a sound mind. 

Two millennia ago, the apostle Paul encouraged those under his watch to live self-disciplined lives. In the 21^st century, an age of instant gratification, the need to heed these words is perhaps greater than ever. 

My online devotional this morning finished with the following words (see footnote 3), and so I leave them with you too:

“What would I want to ask God to rekindle in me at this present time? Ask for the grace to rely more on the power of God and the help of the Holy Spirit.” 

Footnotes and references

1. You can read about the book I browsed but did not read here if you’re interested: https://www.australianacademicpress.com.au/books/details/316/The_Freedom_of_Virtue_Navigating_excellence_in_the_art_of_living_amongst_a_world_of_instant_gratification
2. All the Greek information comes from various pages on a tool I use regularly – www.biblehub.com
3. https://pray-as-you-go.org/player/prayer/2019-10-06

It’s time for a new mop head. I remove the wrinkled grubby piece of sponge and attach a brand new yellow one. I dip the mop into the bucket of warm soapy water, pull it back and squeeze. 

The mop goes lopsided, forming a foam ‘L’. Half the plastic supporting structure has come adrift. I squeeze it by hand and press it against the floor, at which point half the supporting structure completely separates from the all but the sponge.

What should I do? It’s a brand new mop head. I hate to waste it. But it is not easy to use without the blue plastic squeeze bits attached. 

My thoughts go first to replacing the mop … consumerism … and then straight to a class on that very topic I took last week. Clearly, my mind is not on housekeeping. That’s okay, so long as the floor gets cleaned. I get down on my hands and knees and mop the old fashioned way, although with a new yellow squeeze mop head rather than a rag. 

Socio-Cultural Analysis and a Mop

It is just possible that I am overthinking the situation. I dip the detached mop head into the bucket with my bare hands and wring it out. In the minor inconvenience of a broken mop, I sense that God has an important lesson to teach me … as important as what I learnt in class. Perhaps even more so, because I’m learning this lesson at heart level.

Bear with me … I’ll get to the ‘take-home’ message soon enough … as soon as I’m finished mopping the bathroom, laundry and kitchen floors. First, let me indulge in some class review as it relates to my mop saga. We were taught to ask four questions as we analyse particular issues in society.  

Question 1: What is going on? 

I wish I could say that I’d worn the mop out through rigorous use, but the truth is that the plastic has simply decayed. That’s the short answer. 

The bigger issue is that we live in a throw-away society here in Australian suburbia. The plastic was never going to last long. It is cheap to produce, though. In fact, I can replace this style of mop next time I go to the supermarket if I choose, making only a small dent on my grocery budget. 

Question 2: Why is this happening?

It was cheaply made. Plain and simple. In class, we were taught to consider the history, sociology, culture, economy, politics and religion behind a particular issue. A lot could be written on how these apply to my poor old mop. I will limit my pondering in this blog post to just one area … culture.

My cheap almost-disposable mop symbolises consumerism. 

Books could be written on that topic, and have been. As for the mop, I want something with which to clean my floors. I want the gadget to be cheap. I want the process of cleaning my floors to be quick. I don’t want to invest anymore money, time or energy than is necessary. I have better things to do than mop my floor … or so I think. 

Question 3: What’s it like? 

Looking beyond the mop now, I ask myself, ‘What’s it like to live in a throw-away society?’ 

It’s clean. It’s hygienic. It’s convenient. But our garbage tips are overflowing. Neighbouring nations are becoming pickier about receiving our recycling. Our lives are supposedly simpler and yet we try to cram an awful lot into them. We want possessions, experiences, opportunities or connections and so we think that we should have them. Our physical and mental health is suffering. Junk food soothes our frazzled souls but not our guts. (Okay … perhaps you don’t succumb to the lure of chocolate and chips when life feels like it is spinning out of control, but I just might……)

I’ve strayed from the mop. But you get the picture. 

 Question 4: How good (or just) is this?

Well, it’s rather annoying that my mop broke. But it’s not the end of the world. 

As for the impact that consumerism is having, however, in terms of the environment, justice for those who produce our cheap commodities, and the physical and mental health of our residents, that is another matter. 

Is consumerism all bad? No, of course not. Simply by living, we consume … we all need water, air and food to live. It’s the way we go about it that is the problem. We neglect truth and justice, as one of God’s prophets put it. (See Zechariah 8:16-17. The whole chapter is about an ideal society. It’s fabulous and I’m enjoying spending time in it this week). 

Lessons from the Backyard

I take my poor old mop to the backyard to try and break it in half. It won’t fit in the bin as it is. I fail. It will have to languish in a corner until the next hard waste collection in my area. 

The overgrown garden reminds me of how, in creation, we don’t usually get what we want instantly. Not good things, anyhow. Plants take time and the right conditions to grow. Who am I to think that I should be able to have what I want when I want it and with minimal expense or bother? Coffee … particular music … success in my work … dinner … connection with friends … the list goes on. 

Limits

I sit down on the porch, defeated by the mop. The cat meows at my feet. She is expecting a treat. I often sit on the porch with a cuppa and a treat for the cat and myself both. 

I try to explain to Her Feline Highness that we need to abide by healthy limits. We are creatures, not the Creator. We’re not like God in that we speak and something comes into existence.  In fact, I remind her, as her carer, I am responsible to care for her … and that doesn’t mean giving her endless snacks.

Living within our limits, taking a stand against the excesses of consumerism, is easier said than done. Both for the carer and the cat. The kitty rubs against my legs, meowing plaintively, gazing up at me with those big green eyes. How can I resist? 

As for the mop, I will replace it but will spend a little more money next time and buy something more durable, hence more environmentally responsible. I’m not going to the extent of mopping my floor on my hands and knees every time, though, even though I daresay that would be best for the environment. 

The Main Lesson

As for that lesson I sense the LORD would have me learn, it is this:  

Accept limits. 

Our resources aren’t limitless – not the world’s natural resources nor our resources of money, time and energy. We’re not God. We’re creatures, albeit created in the image of God and given the responsibility of caring for creation.

Personally, this applies not only to my mop but also to how I use my time. One significant stress in my life is the inability to balance many good and desirable roles. I want to be a good writer, a good student, a good teacher, a good translator, a frequent traveller, a filial family member, a hospitable host, have a lovely home and garden and exercise every day. While I’m not about to drop anything right now, I am challenged to reassess my goals for each day. I can’t do everything every day. And that’s okay. Just because I want these things doesn’t mean that I should have them all right now.

 The broken mop, as it turned out, started a whole train of thought, integrating what we’ve been learning in class and other matters that have been on my mind lately.

Consumerism in its extreme, wanton consumption, flies in the face of our God-given mandate as God’s image bearers. Let’s take a stand against it, aware that this aspect of our culture is flawed. Let’s steward our resources well and live responsibly, not striving to have everything we want nor to be everything to everybody every minute of every day.

That came a long way from the frustration of a broken mop. 

Light. This was a theme for my recent trip to Asia. I sensed that this was of God, and wrote about that the start of my current adventure. That is recorded in a blog post called ‘Daughters of Light’. 

And now, at the end of the trip, God has brought this theme to mind again. 

As I draft this post, I’m on a plane bound for Australia. Again. In my mind, I look back over the many people and places that have filled my days these last few weeks. It’s a privileged life I lead, and one which I don’t take for granted. I hope and pray that I have been an encouragement to my friends as well as to others I met along the way. I sincerely hope that I have scattered light wherever I travelled. 

I am not allowed my cabin bag for half an hour or so because I am seated in an emergency exit row. Mindlessly, I pull the China Southern magazine from the seat pocket in front of me and flip it open it. The first article my eyes light upon is a lovely poem. 

My heart stirs. I think of the way that ‘light’ has been the main theme this whole trip long. I sense God’s touch in the fact that I am finishing the trip with this poem on the same topic … and now incorporating flowers too. 

The Poem Translated

“Who opens the windows of heaven, scattering holy light below?

“Who lays out the firmament of the heavens, white breaking waves billowing at his word?

“Who directs dreams, crashing through floating clouds? 

“Whose words ring in my ears, truth warming my heart?

——

“Cotton flower, you reflect the sun’s rays, dancing on the clouds,

“Cotton flower, you adorn this home in the sky, bursting into bloom in the ocean of spirits.

——

“Who sings into being the destiny of the sky?

“Who carries the dreams of our lives? 

“Whose smile makes us intoxicated?

“Who carries us along towards revival?”

(A translation of a Chinese poem by Chen Cheng, published in the China Southern inflight magazine, September 2019.)

The Meaning

The poem was written by a poet who loves his country. He writes of a flower called ‘kapok’. It is the city flower of Guangzhou, the city in which this airline hubs. It is commonly referred to as ‘the cotton tree’. Actually, the flower is bright red and bursts into bloom in spring, filling the city with colour and beauty. At first, I reason that the author is particularly thinking of the everyday name of this flower, ‘the cotton flower’, and likening it to the white fluffy clouds beneath our plane which really do resemble cotton balls. Then, as the sun sets and the clouds turn red, I can see that the brilliant red flower image works too.

The poem, however, could well point to the author of light, creator of flowers, and inspirer of dreams. I pray it in Chinese, because that is more beautiful that the English translation provided in the magazine. I have suggested an alternative translation above because, translation snob that I am, I wasn’t satisfied with the official version. 

Questions and Answers

Who opens the windows of heaven, scattering holy light below? The poet expects the answer to be the city flower of Guangzhou, but I suggest that there is one far greater. 

Jesus called himself ‘The Light of the World’ (John 8:12). He calls us, his people, to reflect his light, drawing attention to him in the world in which we live (Matthew 5:16). I am reminded of a song called 将天敞开，你的荣耀降下来 (May the Heavens Open and Your Glory Descend), which Chinese Christians sing. Look it up online if you’re interested – it is sung by the group 赞美之泉 Streams of Praise.

Who directs dreams? Throughout Scripture, we read of God directing and his servants  interpreting literal dreams. Most of us have experienced him directing our figurative dreams too.

Whose truths, whispered in our ears, warms our hearts? Who carries directs our destinies? Whose smile intoxicates us in a far more profound way than mere alcohol? Who refreshes and renews us? 

Back to ‘normal’

My trip is almost over. I am looking forward to life getting ‘back to normal’ – a routine which is fulfilling and meaningful and is in no way just ‘filling in time’ before my next travel abroad. And yet there is always something special about the time I spend as an outsider in this part of the world. I also sense something special about the way that the theme of light bookended this trip.  I’m not quite sure what to make of it just yet. For now, it is enough that the theme of light is noticed and, by blogging about it, reinforced.