The Masterpiece Within

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ancient-carpenter-19515233Sometimes I think we forget the part of Jesus’ life that came before his ministry, the time he spent as a carpenter.  We know that it happened but, because it’s not the part that’s written down, we ignore it – it’s a minor footnote in his story. But it’s a part that intrigues me.

I love to see the work of artists and artisans. Watching people who can weave together intricate detail, original creativity and incredible skill to make something beautiful is something that fills me with wonder. It makes total sense to me that if Jesus was going to put in some time on earth before his ministry, it would be in a creative field. He who flung the stars into space, moulded each petal and picked out the colour palette for the oceans would surely have made some exquisite woodwork.

In our mass produced systems of today we forget that every item used in the world Jesus inhabited was handmade. Bespoke furniture would be the norm. Everything individually made to order. Time, care and attention to detail in every piece, made by a skilled craftsman. Come with me for a few moments into Jesus’ workshop. With an artist’s eye he looks at a piece of wood, rough and unevenly shaped and sees the masterpiece within. He runs his hand over a piece of timber and knows what it will take to chisel away the excess, carve out a beautiful shape and sand it to smooth perfection. He knows what type of wood is best for each different purpose. He has to hand a vast array of utensils and tools, each for a different part of the process and can use each one deftly to achieve just the right outcome and effect. After many hours of labour and patience, leaving no rough edge untended, he has his prize.

I believe that he sees me the same way.

And you.

He looks at our uneven temperament and the character traits that are bent out of shape. He sees the rough, knotted surfaces of our daily lives, the selfishness, pride and impatience, the judgement, laziness and lack of compassion, and rather than throw us on the scrap heap, he sets to work.

Because he can see the masterpiece within.

There are days I like to think I’m nearly there, that all I really need is some sanding down, smoothing out the final few bumps. I think that we’ve been working on this for a while now, Jesus and I, and I’m looking pretty good.

And then he reaches for the hammer and chisel and I know that there’s another lump to be knocked off, and it’s going to be painful and uncomfortable.

We go over the same area of stubborn resistance, working where I thought we were finished, to chip away once more at the parts that need attention. And it is indeed a process that humbles and chastens me.

But I let him work away because I trust myself to the master who can see what needs to be done. I am being fashioned into the shape that he wants me to be, regardless of how long it takes.

And as I sit in his workshop, I’m reminded that when I look at others and find myself considering all of their rough edges, their flaws and failings, that Jesus sees a masterpiece in them too.

We are all a work in progress – and the craftsman hasn’t set down his tools.

I can and I will

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**GBBO Spoiler alert**

I’ll admit it now – I cried at the end of the Bake Off final this year.

But then so did Mary Berry, so I figure I’m in pretty good company.

I didn’t cry because of my sadness that it’s all over for another year, nor because of any terrible injustice over the result – because I thought that Paul and Mary got it spot on.

It was what Nadia said at the end that got me, as she stood holding her winner’s trophy.

“I am never going to put boundaries on myself ever again. I’m never going to say I can’t do it. I’m never going to say maybe. I’m never going to say I don’t think I can. I can and I will.”

What made her triumph all the more beautiful was the obvious joy and pride of her family who were there to support her. They had clearly been cheering her every step of the way, encouraging her when she was down, believing in her when she struggled to believe in herself and spurring her forward right to the end.

There’s extraordinary power in encouragement.

I am scared of heights, and have been ever since I was a little girl.

But I have been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Sky Tower in Auckland and have crossed the Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge on the north Antrim coast of Northern Ireland.

How has this been possible? In every case my knees were like jelly and I had that fearful quiver in my voice when I tried to speak. But on each occasion I had a friend with me to hold my hand (literally), tell me I could, or simply not take no for an answer.

On one occasion I decided to be brave and head to the top of the Scott Monument in Edinburgh – on my own. I made it up to the main part of the monument where you can walk around the edge and get such a wonderful view of the city. Scott monumentHowever there’s another bit you can ascend, in the spire-like part of the structure. I made it about three steps up when my fear stopped me and turned me around. I decided I had been brave enough for one day.

The Scott Monument is around a quarter of the height of the Eiffel Tower and about a third of the Sky Tower (very shonky maths – please don’t look it up), so why could I not get to the top?

Because I was alone.

No encouragement, no hand-holding.

No one pushing me on, telling me I could.

And it made all the difference.

Encouragement is a powerful gift.

The Acts of the Apostles and letters of the New Testament are peppered throughout with calls for us to bring encouragement to one another. Why is it so important?

Because without it we falter.

We look around at what we’re trying to achieve and wonder who the heck we think we are. We see the heights we’re trying to scale, the distance we’re reaching for, the giants we’re facing and we feel the fear.

Or perhaps we look back at the road we’ve been walking and feel disappointed with how slow the journey has been. We are tempted to give up, to just sit down where we are and call it good enough.

At each of these places encouragement makes all the difference.

It lifts us back on our feet again and sets us on our way or gives us the foot up that we need to reach the heights we’re stretching for. Encouragement brings boldness and bravery and drowns out the voice of fear. When we’ve compared ourselves to other brighter, shinier people and told ourselves that there’s no point trying, encouragement reminds us that our contribution is unique and the world needs to hear it.

Encouragement lifts our heads when they are down and strengthens our resolve when it has weakened.

It enables us to say, “I can and I will.”

Who can you encourage today?

Who needs you to be their cheerleader?

And who would like to come and hold my hand, to the very top of the Scott Monument?

All the vain things

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I’ll admit it – I am easily charmed.

Fluffy bunnies, smooth advertising slogans, a well-made slice of cake, a fabulous shade of lipstick – it really doesn’t take much to win me over. If it is shiny and wonderful then I would like a piece of it.

Neither am I one for self-discipline and so I will readily capitulate to a variety of these temptations on an almost daily basis.

I remember when fragranced ironing water first came on the market. I’m sure there’s a proper name for it, but it’s basically nice smelling water to put in your steam iron instead of the regular stuff from the tap. Watching the tv advert I thought it was utterly absurd. The clothes were already clean from the washing machine, why on earth did they need extra smelly water?!

Fast forward a few days and I found myself wandering past the ‘new product special offer’ section in the supermarket and began to have a different conversation with myself.

You know sometimes the clothes may be clean, but there is still that slightly stale smell when you iron them. Perhaps you should just try it. It might be lovely. Go on, pop the bottle in the trolley. There, that was easy.

I travelled another few aisles before having another, more stern conversation with myself and returned the ironing water back to the shelf.

Please hear me – if you are a person with ironing water in your cupboard, there is no judgement here. This was one tiny luxury that I denied myself on one miraculous day. My home is filled with many other charming and unnecessary things that I have scooped up and brought home, and if you ever came and inspected my belongings (please promise me you won’t ever do that) you would be horrified by the amount of stuff that I couldn’t possibly resist.

It’s because of these quirks (surely not flaws) in my character that I’ve always found it a challenge to sing the line in the famous hymn, “All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood.”

Ouch.

shoppingI think we’ve established that there are many vain things in my life and I’ll confess right now that they charm me a great deal. And so I would sing that line with a slight grimace and promise the Lord that I would, yes I definitely would (or at least I’d try to) purge myself of these charms and live a more monastic and holy life.

Until recently I had never made a connection between these lines and the first two lines of this same verse.

Forbid it Lord, that I should boast

Save in the death of Christ my God.

All the vain things that charm me most

I sacrifice them to his blood.

Yes indeed forbid it Lord that I should boast, for I am British and that is most unbecoming. What’s more, as a member of a Celtic nation, boasting may see me excommunicated from my people. So Lord, I can sing this line quite easily, because boasting is vulgar and I don’t do it, really.

And then, just recently, the Lord whispered something to me in response.

What about the vain things?

Yes I know, the vain things! I’m sacrificing them.

Ok I’m not. But I’m trying.

Sometimes.

They are how you boast.

Not with words, but with things.

Everything you take more pride in, show more joy towards than me. Every time you are more concerned with how you look, or what they’ll think than you are with what I’m saying to you. When you take more care over everything external than you do with the internal, then you are boasting in something other than me.

Ah. I see it now.

I see the time and effort I put into things that have no eternal consequence. The care and attention I give to parts of my life that do not truly matter.

Those things are not necessarily wrong in and of themselves, and many of them bring me delight and pleasure. But when they take up too much space in my life and my thoughts then something is out of balance.

And so from now on I will sing this verse recognising that I boast every day in things other than Jesus and that he asks me to sacrifice my vain and shiny trinkets so that his radiance might be seen more clearly, by me and through me.

Forbid it Lord, that I should boast

Save in the death of Christ my God.

All the vain things that charm me most

I sacrifice them to his blood.

Full Laundry, Fresh Style – Update

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About a month ago I wrote a post about my new clothing regime: Full Laundry, Fresh Style, the basic idea of which was that I would do no more laundry until I had worn all of my clothes!

Laundry pinterest

I am now five weeks into this scheme and so I thought I’d give you a little update.

Firstly, before you are too shocked by the fact that I have five weeks of clothes (and counting…) in my wardrobe and start judging me for my Imelda Marcos-like tendencies, let me point out that as I started at the end of summer I have been using both summer and autumn clothes during this time. There are definitely things that, once laundered, will not go back in the wardrobe but rather be tucked away again until next summer. Similarly there are a few things that are coming into the wardrobe now that’s it’s getting cooler which were away in a drawer since the start of spring. Also, there are obviously lots of items, particularly trousers and skirts, which have been worn more than once.

That being said – I do have a lot of clothes. What’s more, I don’t absolutely love them all.

And so my mind begins to turn to what I am learning from this process and what I might do differently at the end of it. Given that an estimated £140 million worth of used clothes goes to landfill in the UK every year (some of which has travelled via charity shops and hasn’t been sold), I don’t want to return to my default setting of sending things out the door in a donation bag and think that this lets me off the hook. However I do feel the need to simplify, at least a little. I think a clothes swap may be in order.

There have been a few wonderful benefits along the way.

  1. My default pair of jeans were in need of retiring to the ‘gardening clothes’ category and I wondered if I could make it through the challenge without going to buy another pair. Lo and behold, deep in the darkest recesses of my wardrobe was another pair of jeans that had, at one point or another, fallen out of favour but which were in perfectly good nick. They are the new default jeans.
  2. I really haven’t felt too bereft of visiting in my beloved charity shops. Because I’ve had more variety in the clothes I am wearing every day I therefore haven’t felt the need to add a little something new by shopping.
  3. I’m entering the skirt phase. I have quite a few skirts which I like but don’t wear often. Now that the summer trousers have all been worn and the jeans are in the wash, bring on the skirts!
  4. Hardly any laundry.

I think I can probably get another 2-3 weeks out of this plan if I can make things match and tie together ok. I’ll keep you posted!

Confessions of a Listaholic

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Hello, my name is Tara and I’m a listaholic.

I am a maker of lists. I don’t just mean the usual lists of grocery shopping or things that I need to get done at work on any given day. I am a maker of lists on an industrial scale. I have lists for work, lists for when I come home, a list on my phone for Christmas and the beginning of a list for an activity next year. I have lists coming out of my ears.

Even today, on a mid week day off after a working weekend, a day that I have been anticipating for rest and relaxation, there is a list. And a list that keeps being added to.

Last night I began to ask myself some questions about that. What is that all about? On your list of things to do, why do you even write down a reminder to do your #100happydays picture for Instagram?! Why does it matter that much? Who would notice, who would care, if something slipped off the list or didn’t get done?

I would know.

And the eldest child, big sister part of me would be quite unhappy. Responsibility and dependability are what we bring to the party. If that goes, what will people think? That I’m unreliable or, god forbid, lazy? That won’t do.

But I’m tired and weary and my body and soul just want a rest. Down time. No lists!

In the back of my mind I know that even if I set the list aside there would still be the spectre of Really Should. You have a whole day off, you really should do the hovering. Look at the mess in the kitchen, you really should tidy it up. All those things on the list you just set down – you know you really should do them!

I give in to Really Should all the time and, you know what? She’s a bully. And if you give into bullies then they just keep bullying. But if you confront them, they often have no power at all.

“Oh yeah, Really Should – who says so? That’s right – no one.”

No one says I really should except for me.

So here’s what I’m going to do today – I’m going to gag Really Should and embrace Really Must. I really must sit for a while and do nothing but stare out the window, allow silence to fill my world and let my soul be entirely at rest. I really must go outside for a walk, take time to smell the roses and listen to the birdsong. I really must resist the temptation to add those things to my list!

I don’t anticipate throwing the list out entirely as I’m not sure that going cold turkey would be helpful and might induce panic. But I am determined not to let the list beat me over the head. I want to find the ability to truly rest, while still embracing the fact that I am someone who likes some order and to get stuff done. Can I do that?

Am I alone in this lunacy? Does anyone relate to a Life of Lists with a side order of Really Shoulds?

If you’re out there perhaps we can form a support group. I’ll add that to my list.

Whatever is lovely

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Earlier this year I attended a workshop during a conference where we were encouraged to think about our strengths and passions through a series of activities. One exercise involved looking at a range of postcards, each of which named a strength, and picking the one that resonated most with us and then reflecting on some questions. I selected ‘appreciation of excellence and beauty’ and sat down to ponder – and it’s something I’ve been mulling ever since. How is this a strength? What is it good for? Encouragement for people who have done something excellent or beautiful? I hope so. But is there more to it than that?

Recently I was reminded of some verses that I love, but have now come to see with fresh eyes. “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.” Philippians 4

The surprising and joyful thing that I found afresh in theses verses is the second half of the list. Things that are true, noble, right and pure would seem to be obvious exhortations for us as God’s people, because those seem holy, righteous and all very Christian. But the fact that we are also encouraged to focus on what is lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy, with equal measure to the first half of the list, means that there must be some holiness and righteousness baked right in to those things too, right?

Maybe it seems very obvious to you reading this, and I am just thoroughly dense, but until recently I hadn’t fully appreciated the true value in loveliness. I knew that God was the creator who made all things good and beautiful and so of course, seeing his creation made me feel connected to him and brought worship to my soul. But there’s something more to it than that. When I see something lovely or excellent, not just in nature but also man-made, there is a specific type of joy that rises in me, a declaration of ‘yes’ that waters my parched being in a particular way. Admiring an extraordinary painting, an exquisitely made dress or a beautiful building evokes an awe-filled wonder. Somehow, however, I had the impression that this reaction was, dare I say, shallow and that appreciating something simply because of its loveliness was not very worthy, indeed perhaps a little too worldly.

I’ve started to realise how wrong I was. If I’m made in the image of a creator God, who took delight in all kinds of creativity, who did everything with excellence, why would I not be wired to find joy and wonder in what’s around me? Why would those things not bring me incredible pleasure? Setting my attention on what is praiseworthy unlocks something of the Father’s heart in me and for me.

Sunday brought a specific moment of clarity in this. I was exhausted from a busy week and a working weekend and I had a half hour meltdown. Just one of those moments of being overwhelmed and tearful for no one reason that I could put my finger on, but feeling all at sea.004 I came into our little conservatory and sat looking out to the garden. We have a shrub with beautiful purple flowers just outside the window, and the branches were swaying gently in the wind. I looked at the glorious colour, even more radiant in the sunshine, watched as a bee trundled his way around the circumference of the bloom and noticed the contrast of the fir green and sky blue behind this picture.

And peace descended.

In a matter of moments there was calm and a restoration of joy. A simple act of setting my attention on what was lovely had extraordinary impact.

Beauty has a gentle power all of its own. In the midst of a world that can feel dark and dangerous, in the middle of a day that is full of confusion, in a moment that is heartbreakingly empty or impossibly full, taking time to appreciate something that is beautiful can restore some equilibrium.

And so I am making a pledge.

At a time when the loudest voices seem to draw our attention to all that is wrong, I will instead be one who praises that which is excellent. When people draw my attention to the ugly side of life, I will seek out the loveliness. And when I see something that is worthy of praise and admiration, I will call attention to it, draw a crowd around it and together we will take off our shoes and stand on holy ground.

Full Laundry Fresh Style

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A couple of months ago I read an article about someone who was doing a decluttering of their wardrobe and they included a piece of advice that I’d read dozens of times before: go through what you have and if you haven’t worn it in a year then get rid of it. Give it to charity, sell it or throw it out. I’ve always been a little dubious about that idea but this time it really struck me – I actually think it’s nonsense.

Why haven’t you worn those clothes for a year? Is it because they genuinely no longer fit or you’ve completely worn them out? Or is it more likely that you’ve just become bored with them at some stage and bought more stuff? And as you’ve bought more stuff the closet gets even more full and those boring item goes right to the back – isn’t that right? Finally we arrive at the stage where we think ‘I’ve got too much – I need to declutter!’ We may feel good getting rid of stuff at the time but most of us know that we’re just making room for more. And in a year or two we’ll put together a new outfit and think “oh I need a green cardigan to go with this – I used to have one of those but I gave it away – now I’ll have to buy a new one.”

We seem to have become conditioned to believe that joy is only to be found in the new, therefore if you’ve had it for a while and no longer use it, you are within your right to say goodbye. This completely ignores the fact that, at one time, you liked this item enough to buy it and (hopefully) wear it. (Although there is a frightening statistic that the average British woman hoards £285 of clothes they will never wear.) If we actually looked into our wardrobes a little more closely, would we rediscover items that we could still very happily wear, rather than always reaching for the same things or thinking that we need something new? If we tuck things away for a while and then bring them out afresh will it feel like we have something new, when really it was ours all along and we’d simply forgotten about it? Livia Firth, eco campaigner (and wife of Colin), takes great joy in highlighting the things she wears that she’s had for many, many years with the hashtag #sustainablewardrobe .

I love clothes, and I love to shop. However I also care about the ethics of my wardrobe and so I do quite a bit of my purchasing in charity shops. This has led me to take on an attitude that all my shopping is guilt free and so I’ll merrily carry on. I have also been under the impression that if I bought something and didn’t like it, I could simply pop it back into a charity shop bag where it would benefit someone else. The whole cycle was a beautiful eco-shoppers dream – until I watched the film The True Cost. I thoroughly recommend that you get a copy (or it’s available on Netflix I believe) and let yourself be challenged by the state of the garment industry. This is an issue that I’ve been passionate about for a while but the film has reinvigorated that interest and has brought some fresh perspectives. For example, the clothes that I send off to a charity shop will not necessarily be bought by someone else. And if they’re not purchased they will be shipped to a developing country where they will flood their markets with very cheap clothes, or they will be put into landfill and leak toxic fumes into the atmosphere. Suddenly my theoretically righteous shopping habits became a bit more suspect.

I do often look into my wardrobe at things I haven’t worn in quite some time and think that I should get them out and figure what to put them with – but then I reach for the same 40% of my wardrobe day after day, week after week. So what to do with all the clothes that I have that I haven’t worn in ages? Finally this past weekend I came up with a plan : don’t do laundry! If the things that I always reach for stay in the washing basket then I’ll be forced to dig deeper and deeper into my closet and wear the things I actually own.

This is my plan, (which I started last Sunday) : I have emptied my washing and ironing baskets and have all of my clothes at my disposal, and aside from washing necessary undergarments etc, I will not do any more laundry until I have worked my way through my entire wardrobe. Let me be clear – I’m talking normal clothes. I’m not going to run out of stuff to wear and then turn up to the office in a bridesmaid dress because that’s the only thing left!

I’m hoping to gain something valuable from this experience. I would like to rediscover joy and gratitude in how abundantly blessed I already am. I hope to exercise fresh creativity in putting together new combinations of clothes I may never have tried before. I love to be creative in this way and recognise that it’s sometimes laziness that stops me making the most of what I have. I think there are rich pickings in my wardrobe just waiting to be discovered anew. I will also, hopefully, prove to myself that I can stop shopping – at least for quite a while!*

Plus, no laundry! BONUS. (I appreciate that I am heading for one almighty laundry mountain at the end of all this, but hey, for now my washing machine will enjoy the rest.) I’m calling this little experiment Full Laundry, Fresh Style and you are very welcome to join me if you feel the need to re-explore your own wardrobe. If I find any clothes combinations along the way that I’m particularly proud of I’ll let you know and I’ll keep you posted in a couple of weeks time with how I’m getting on. For now I’m off to decide what to wear tomorrow…

*I feel I must confess: between the time of writing this and posting it I did actually buy one more garment – but it was a case of serious wardrobe malfunction!! A very full floaty skirt and a windy day made it highly likely that I would spend an entire afternoon flashing my underwear around the city of Edinburgh and, y’know, I’m just not that kind of girl. So to save my blushes I bought a quick charity shop garment to continue on my way in all modesty – but that’s me done now, I promise!

Unfailing Kindness

~ cultivatingandcreating ~ 6 Comments

I hate camping. I mean really hate it. With a passion.

My husband loves it and is always trying to convince me to go. I grew up going on camping holidays, but they were always in the south of France, where there’s generally sunshine and proper facilities. Camping in Scotland can be quite a different experience.

Rain.

Midges.

Rain.

Wellies.

More midges, more rain.

Putting on said wellies in the middle of the night to walk 200 metres to the toilet.

No thank you.

And then there’s the airbed. No matter how well you inflate them before going to bed, inevitably by 4am part of your body is lying on the cold hard ground and you are very uncomfortable. Eventually your chilly state of discomfort leads you to need the toilet – on go the wellies again and so commences the long walk to the bathroom.

Bear Grylls I am most definitely not.

Life is hard enough without camping.

Sometimes the things that we put our trust in begin to deflate. Jobs, family, church, friends, possessions, position – all can change, let us down or be taken away, and as a result leave us wondering in the middle of the night why we’re suddenly lying on cold, hard ground. The cushion that had seemed so reliable has gone and life has become considerably more uncomfortable.

What do we do when life begins to sink? Where do we find the means to lift ourselves again?

The Bible talks about kind words being like honey, “sweet to the soul and healthy for the body.” (Proverbs 16 v 24 NLT) Can words really do all that?

I had a conversation with a friend this week who was asking how my husband and I are doing in the midst of our ongoing season of uncertainty. This friend has been consistent in his care and kindness, but played to his gender stereotype by bemoaning the fact that his mere words were not satisfactory and what he really wanted to do was fix the situation for us. Not being able to do so led him to believe that his kind words were a poor substitute.

I quickly put him right.

You see lying on the cold hard ground of difficult circumstances eventually takes its toll. You can put up with it for a while, but eventually you start to ache. At those times what we need are friends to come around us and breathe words of kindness into our deflated life. To lift us off the ground, even for a few moments, with their care and attention. To ease the strain in our bodies that has come from carrying too much stress for too many days. Lift the burden from our weary shoulders so that we can stand tall again. I know that the kind words of many people over these last couple of years have been a tonic that my soul could not have done without.

The power of kindness, of kind words, is hugely under-rated.

There have been several documented examples over the past few years of strangers pausing to ask someone ‘are you alright?’, and that one question, that one moment of kindness has stopped a person from taking their life. They didn’t physically pull them back from the brink, but their kindness had a power all of its own – transformational, life-giving.

I whole-heartedly believe that kind words are not some empty, token gesture but that they have strength, a steely core that can pack the best kind of punch.

confetti quote

Every single day each one of us has at our disposal a rich bank of words. Words that can be used to breathe life and hope, bring joy and laughter. Words can offer care and kindness, compassion and empathy. Words can change how someone feels about themselves or their circumstances.

Words are entirely free. They cost us nothing.

Words that we can choose to leave unsaid.

This world can be a tough place to walk through at times. Why would we leave kind words unsaid?

Will you join me in committing to kindness? Let’s throw it around like confetti? Let’s dare to say kind things to strangers as well as friends. We may never know if our kind words have made any sort of difference, but who cares? The world needs all of the kind words it can get.

Let us never fail to speak kindness.

Someone answered my prayer this week.

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I mean, obviously God answered my prayers – but he used a person to do it.

My secret heart’s cry to my heavenly Father was heard and he offered another the chance to be part of the solution. She felt that nudge of the Spirit and responded by kindness and generosity, not only in the gesture but in the words accompanying it, reminding us that we are not forgotten, that God is still with us, for us, blessing us.

I was, am, so very grateful.

And also challenged.

You see a couple of weeks ago a different friend had been on my heart, someone for whom life has brought some significant challenges over the last while. I prayed for her and thought of a practical way in which I could offer some help, using the free time I had that coming weekend. I told myself I’d be in touch during the week to see how she was and reach out to her, but the days passed and I decided to paint the hallway that weekend and before I knew it the free time was gone along with my good intentions. I felt pretty sure that I hadn’t just missed an opportunity to be kind but something much more significant.

You see, as my own prayer had been answered, the friend that did so reminded me that sometimes, perhaps even often, God uses us his people to be the means by which he responds to meet our needs. Which leads me to ask, how many times have I been the answer to someone else’s prayer – and how many times have I missed it? It’s no good to pray, as I often like to do, ‘Lord help me to keep listening for your voice today, for the whispers of your Spirit’ if I’m not going to do what he asks. Am I really prepared to pray that and mean it? Because that will mean some action and probably some significant sacrifice on my part.

But what an extraordinary privilege.

That the maker of heaven and earth, having listened to the longings and desires of one of his precious children, would ask me to respond on his behalf. Why would I ever say I’m too busy for that? Sorry it’s really not convenient just now. I have a hallway to paint! Imagine.

Oh Lord let me never be too busy for your purposes. Let me begin each day putting all that I am and all that I have at your disposal. Give me ears to hear, hands that are willing to be open and feet that are ready to move. And as I see a person or circumstance laid upon my heart, as well as lifting them to you in prayer, help me to ask if I might be part of the answer.

For Scotland

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I have a hope for Scotland, tentative yet growing stronger by the day.

It comes from a week spent with the young people of this nation, from those who came to gather around the cross.

They represented towns and villages from north and south, churches of the east and west, schools, clubs and families. But they stood together under the banner of Jesus. And something new began to stir.

Their only allegiance was Christ and their only mission to proclaim his name to the nation.

This generation have not yet drawn lines in the sand separating them from their brothers and sisters. They have not been tainted by our tribal divisions and suspicions, have not yet inherited our prejudices.

I believe there is a new thing being birthed, where it will not matter who gets the credit, or whose church grows fastest, as long as people find their way to the Saviour. And so I have a mighty hope for Scotland.

But I also have a fear.

That we who have at times allowed other things to become more important than being sold out for Jesus, who have let our divisions blind us to our true priority, would somehow by our discouragement and disunity, quash the flame that has been lit in them.

And so I pray that we as the church would leave them unshackled from our history, our expectations, that we would instead boldly cheer them on as they go together to reach their streets, schools and cities, and that they will do together as family what we have failed to manage in our divided little parishes and pockets.

I pray that they continue to rally under the name of Jesus with their only passion being Him and making Him known. That we would help fan into flame this love so that a forest fire sweeps this nation.

And that they would lead us in a new way of walking as the church in this land.