The Lord bless you and keep you...

Morning, Lord.

I'm quoting Moses:

'The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.'

This is from Numbers 6:24-26.

I didn't know where that beautiful couple of verses was from but I am entirely familiar with it as quite often our church services close with those very words. I like the sound of it. I like the blessing. The other day for some reason when I came upon it in its natural habitat in the early bit of the Bible (I can't remember why I was poking around in Numbers) it suddenly became three dimensional instead of a stock phrase to send us on our way just after midday on a Sunday (in the name of Christ - Amen).

You know what? Moses was talking to me. I'm going to ask him about this when I track him down in Heaven. I'm going to ask him if he had any vague idea of the momentousness of these words. If he suspected at the back of his mind that we would bow our heads as they were spoken over us centuries later.

The Lord bless you and keep you...

Yes, you do, don't you? I am blessed in more ways than I know. I am blessed to be your child, I am blessed materially beyond the dreams of most of the world. I am blessed with health, with family, with ideas, with clean water and eyes to see the way the low winter sun glows orange on the tree branches outside my daughter's school.

I am blessed with every new day that I wake up once more and blessed with opportunities to do something new for you. I am blessed with choices, freedom, the ability to think and speak and the permission and safety to do it knowing that no-one is going to come knocking at my door to take me away for saying that I love you, Jesus.

Blessed? I am.

You keep me. I firmly believe that if you forgot about me for a moment I would cease to be. I am because you made me and you look after me. You know me inside out and you knew the course my life would take from the moment two cells joined together. You know exactly what I'm going to say before I say it and you know the efforts I make to please you and the times when I don't. You keep me safe. You keep me close. You keep me under your wing. You don't miss a single thing.

The Lord make his face shine upon you...

I love this. I love that light shines from you, because you are the origin of light. I love that to see you face to face will be the day when there is no longer any darkness, because there can be none when there is light. I love that with your light is warmth and life; you are the Sun. When I turn towards you, I am lit up, but I will always have a dark and cold side so long as there is part of me that faces away. Too often I turn away from you, hiding, retreating, recoiling.

You are beautiful. Transcending male or female, beyond my imagination, beyond handsome or pretty or anything that I can get my head round; you are the source of all that is beautiful.

Psalm 50:2
'From Mount Zion, the perfection of beauty,
God shines in perfect radiance.'

Your face, it shines radiant. You are the source of all life-giving light. I want to bask in that light, soak it up so that my bones are warmed through.

...and be gracious to you...

You are endlessly gracious. In the words of Ann Voskamp* 'All is grace.'  Every new day, every ray of sunlight, every shower.

'But you, Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.'  Psalm 86:15

Every time I hear the birds sing, the children laugh, the congregation lift its collective voice with the angels. Every snowflake, ice crystal, drop of dew on a spider's web.

'The Lord has caused his wonders to be remembered; the Lord is gracious and compassionate.'  Psalm 111:4

Each time my little girl slips her small hand into mine, every little love note that she writes, every time my head sinks into a soft pillow.

'The Lord is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion.' Psalm 116:5

Every time you forgive me for some laziness, selfishness, meanness; a raised voice, some critical remark, a hurtful act.

'The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.'  Psalm 103:7

All is grace. You cannot but be gracious.

The Lord turn his face towards you...

Sometimes when I'm concentrating on something and my daughters want me they grasp my face with their two hands and turn my head towards them. Since my eyes face forwards, my gaze is torn away from whatever it was that I was intent upon and rests on them. They have my attention. I don't need to do that with you; you're never distracted, never focused somewhere else at my expense. You are always there, always noticing.  Your face is always turned towards me, loving, forgiving, expectant.

Like a smiling Daddy when his children want to tell him something, I see you stooping low to hear. Down on one knee, beckoning. Looking intently, listening carefully, encouraging, caring. Your face is towards me. I feel your gaze. I can't live without it.

...and give you peace.

Ah. Peace. Elusive peace. I do have your peace, sometimes. I love that feeling; it's the best thing in the world - beyond the world. Sometimes I get a glimpse of what life might be like if I could somehow stop worrying completely and rest in your arms. I sense that there is a whole new way to live out there beyond the anxiety and self-consciousness and need to be accepted. Peace. Rest.

'My peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.'  John 14:27

You give it to me and what on earth do I do with it? I let it slip through my fingers as I reach for the familiar; 'what if...?' and 'if only..'. I long for peace and then walk past it because I don't stop long enough to find it, or I don't recognise it because I'm so used to stress and anxiety.

You would have me live quite differently, wouldn't you?  You encourage me to leave my problems with you, to take each day as it comes, to live right here and right now instead of regretting yesterday and worrying about tomorrow. You would infuse me with peace instead of striving, peace instead of fear, peace instead of apprehension.

There's an endless supply of peace for me. Every time I let it slip away, you are there to give me more if I could just learn how to accept it. If I could just trust you more, take you at your word instead judging you by the standards of the world, if I could just open my clenched fists and drop all things of no value that I clutch so tightly so that you could give me this most precious of gifts - then I would have peace.

I hear the blessing and I whisper 'Amen' and I turn and leave church, shouldering my hassles at the door. How perverse am I?

I have a long way to go. At times like this I realise that although I am making progress, I have so much to learn. I am an adolescent in when it comes to spiritual maturity, but I can say this:

You are my God. I am your child.

The Lord blesses me and keeps me.
He makes his face shine upon me and he is gracious to me; the Lord turns his face towards me and gives me peace.

Yes he does.



* One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp 2011, Zondervan

You're beautiful

Hello, God.

It's getting busy now; all the Christmas things. Tomorrow we've got people coming to visit and I am a blur as I seek to get all the housework done that I put off on a day to day basis. A fairly grumpy blur, if the truth be known, as I don't like dusting, cleaning, vacuuming, tidying. It wouldn't be half such an onerous job if I did a little bit more a little more often but hey. There's always something better to do. 

In amid the list making, rushing about and planning of the last few days you have sent me some little gems, Lord.  A few things recently that have made me smile; even brought tears to my eye. Things that have comforted, encouraged, inspired. Gifts from you.  

I have so much to be thankful for.

On Friday I went to a wedding. I love weddings at the best of times but this was special. It didn't matter one bit that outside the weather was freezing and sleet was pelting down sideways.  Our lovely church was full, the flowers were so pretty, it was beautifully organised, the music lovely, the singing raised the roof. The bride looked gorgeous, the vows were heartfelt and emotional and the pride and love on the groom's face as he walked down the aisle with his new wife on his arm made my eyes fill up all over again. All those things were lovely but the most overwhelming thing was that you were there. You, who enjoyed a good wedding enough to turn water into wine, of course you'd be there. The two young people getting married know you and love you and made sure that you were invited. Not that you wouldn't have turned up anyway, because you love them - but you filled the place. The wedding was an offering to you and it felt to me as if you were smiling with pleasure and raining down blessings. 

Relatives and friends and many of our church were there and it felt as if the bride and groom were held tightly in the love of their family. It was just lovely. Lovely is too boring a word. 

And something else happened for me. The final hymn was a song I'd never heard before and it blew me away. You really spoke to me through it. It has a wonderful melody line which has been in my mind constantly since then, and the words are so powerful.

You're Beautiful: Phil Wickham (2007)

I see your face in every sunrise

The colours of the morning are inside your eyes

The world awakens to the light of the day

I look up to the sky and say

You're beautiful.

Lord God, this year I have learned so much. So much about myself, so much about you. I have learned that you are all around me and I just need eyes to see. This song reminded me straight away about the times I saw the sun rise on holiday this year on the east coast and the way that the light changed moment by moment, from glory to glory. (Finding a spacious place).

I saw you in the sunrise just as the writer of this song did. I look at the majesty and subtlety and wonder of the sun emerging over the sea and I am looking into the eyes of the Lord. My God, you're beautiful. 

I see your power in the moonlit night

Where planets are in motion and galaxies are bright

We are amazed at the light of the stars

It's all proclaiming who you are

You're beautiful.

.

I saw that too. 

I lay on my back with Bryan on the same holiday and we saw the Milky Way in a clear and unpolluted night sky and I was amazed indeed. (The skies proclaim your handiwork.) There were more stars than I've ever seen. You put every one of them there and it was breathtaking. Awe-inspiringly beautiful. This song was meant for me, wasn't it?

I see you there hanging on a tree

You bled and then you died and then you rose again for me

Now you are sitting on your heavenly throne

And soon we will be coming home

You're beautiful.

Lord at Easter I was struck in a new way with the enormity of what you did for me. It was very powerful and it knocked me for six. (The weight of the world) and (How marvellous, how wonderful). I was amazed at what I saw for the first time about what you did. For me. For me. You didn't have to but you did, because you loved me. I sat here at my computer and I tried desperately to make words describe what you were doing in my heart pretty much as I am now, and failed, I suppose, pretty much as I am now, because it's too big a thing. It's too hard to express it adequately when God says something to you. When the Lord of creation tells you that he died for you because he loves you so much there aren't words for it. 

And then came the last verse of Phil Wickham's beautiful song and I choked up again.

When we arrive at eternity's shore

Where death is just a memory and tears are no more

We'll enter in as the wedding bells ring

Your bride will come together and we'll sing

You're beautiful.

I think this is the song of my year, Lord. It sums up so much of what I've thought and felt. It's been a special time for me. You've given me the odd glimpse of the hope I have in the last few months and although I'm just a small child with such an incredible long way to go you've been gracious enough to encourage me with tiny glimpses of the promise that I have in you. (The place where beauty comes from). Lord God, I've said it before; I give you so little and you give me so much back. 

I find this last verse spine tingling. You have grown in my heart this year a real longing to know you. To notice you and to see you and hear you and experience you and reflect you and tell people about you. This little thing that's growing - it's small and incomplete and faulty and quite often gets drowned out by much less lofty desires but you've planted a seed and I am stooped over it, protectively, trying to give it water and light and help it to grow into something. I want it to, honestly.  

A little devotional reading on my iPhone the other night told me of an alpine plant that has a tiny, tiny flower, yet three feet of root to anchor it into shallow soil and reach between rocks to make it safe from strong winds and erosion and yet supply it with the nutrients it needs to survive and bloom. Lord, make me like that plant. Sometimes I can find rich, hearty soil but sometimes I find myself without any depth to reach into. Sometimes I find that I'm blowing in the wind and in danger of becoming uprooted but I'm hanging on. Give me three feet of root, Father God, even when beneath me is just rock. Even if my flower is minuscule, help me to blossom and show the beauty you've given me even if no-one is around to see. 

My devotional goes on to say that meditating on your word, and learning to appreciate your presence in the world around us is how we can put down longer and firmer roots. To anchor ourselves in you. 

I have such a long way to go, Lord, but you've been showing me all this, this year, haven't you? (The sacred that surrounds us). I hear songs like 'You're beautiful' and I read about meditation and opening my eyes to see you and hear you around me and I have come to recognise that I can see you. I so often shut you out because my vision is narrow and selfish but I can, when you help me, take a long look at the wonder of you. 

Lord what a loving God you are. You made me how I am and you know how much I like symmetry; how much I like things to be complete and orderly. You know how bad I am at listening to you and yet you've placed in my heart a little spark of something that delights me and leads me closer to you. You've sent me so many little gems this year; so many new ideas and glimpses and you've been patient enough to reinforce each one and send me reminders in so many ways. In books, in devotionals, through friends, sermons and the things I find around me. You've made connections where there were none and have fed and watered the little seed that you planted.

It is just wonderful, Father. 'You're Beautiful' doesn't begin to cover it, but I offer you what I can. What I have. Thankyou. 

Just as the young couple on Friday left the church to start their life together, I feel I've set out on a journey with you this year. I've taken some steps and it feels as if this trip could last a lifetime. I have no idea how long that might be, but I'm limbering up for the next leg of the journey. 

I love it. 

Restore my soul

Evening, Lord.

I found this:

Not Psalm 23

The clock is my dictator, I shall not rest,

It maketh me lie down only when exhausted.

It leads me to deep depression,

it hounds my soul.

It leads me in circles of frenzy

for activity's sake.

Even though I run frantically from task to task,

I will never get it all done.

For my 'ideal' is with me,

Deadlines and my need for approval,

they drive me.

They demand performance from me,

beyond the limits of my schedule.

they anoint my head with migraines,

and my in-tray overfloweth.

Surely fatigue and time pressure shall follow me all 

the days, hours and minutes of my life,

And I will dwell in the bonds of frustration 

forever.

Marcia K Hornok

I think that either Ms Hornok knew that one day I would read this, or you did. How reassuring to realise that I'm not on my own. If I'd had the words I could have put this together myself. Not because I am constantly active, always on the move - on the contrary, I can laze around with the best of them - but I just don't seem to be able to manage stillness.  Silence.  Rest. I can sleep (oh yes, I am very good at it, given the chance) but rest in you, Lord; I seem to find it so hard. I am always doing. My To Do list runs to several pages and some things have been on there for years. When I do stop, I seem to fill every quiet moment with noise, even just the noise of my own mind. 

I don't know why I seem to resist that stillness, the silence - the other week when I had a day's silent retreat it turned out to be a wonderful, rich, relaxing day that fed my soul. I must learn to find that focus on my own.

I have so many things started but not finished. So many projects 'on the back burner', so many things that I'm involved with because I didn't say no, and I thought that something was expected of me. I worried what people thought of me. I'm getting better at that. I am better than I was six months ago. I know that I want to be needed and I want to be liked. I want people to approve of me and I get in terrible trouble by letting this motivate me rather than what I suspect is the right, appropriate, sensible thing to do. 

I am tired all the time. Physically tired, yes, but this goes with the territory if you have two small children; I would like to have this go away but I know that I might have to wait a few years. I'm mentally tired from the internal gymnastics I do so regularly to keep people happy, to do the things I've said I'll do, to try to fit it all in without ever taking time to recharge; lie down in my green pasture and soak up your presence. 

I am going to sort this out. It might be in baby steps, and I might climb ladders and slip down snakes, but I am going to sort this out. It's taken me oh so very long to identify the problem, but hey, I am going to overlook the fact that I'm late to this party and embrace the fact that I got here at all. 

Lord, you are my Shepherd. I want to lie down in the green pastures, by the still waters, looking up at the blue sky and white clouds, feel the gentle breeze in my hair and hear the whisper of the tall grass. I want to lie down and inhale you; lean against you and feel your strength and warmth and life.  

Restore my soul.