Come and worship

I've always loved Carol Services. 

If I can hold a candle and the church is nicely decorated and there's a choir and a band and so on, so much the better. The other night I walked down the road to church and on the way I asked you if you'd speak to me. If I could spend time with you - and feel your Presence there with me in the candlelight. 

Oh, Lord, you answered that prayer. 

The carols weren't just carols. They weren't the same over-familiar tunes and words that we trot out each year and know by heart because we dust them off each Christmas. For me, in row six, sitting next to a man who didn't sing a single word - not a single word! - it seemed fresh and new. 

Hark! The herald angels sing

Glory to the new born King

Oh, Lord Jesus. It was as if those angels were singing with us. The glorious company of heaven was watching the miraculous events in a small middle eastern town way back when and they were proclaiming the wonder of it for the very first time

.

Joyful, all ye nations, rise

Join the triumph of the skies

The very angels of heaven were singing to say, 'He's there! He's come to you! Can you believe it?'

As we sang the weariness of the day full of Christmas preparations melted away and I realised that I found a little bit of that joy deep inside. It's not a fluffy, light as a feather happy sort of feeling; no, it's a deep, weighty, full-bodied overwhelming thing. 

Light and life to all He brings

Risen with healing in His wings

Light. Life. Healing. Don't we all need those things? How I need them; I am broken in so many places. And you are the balm to my hurts, the light in my darkness, the answer to my question. 

As the candle flame in my hand flickered and people's faces were lit up and made beautiful with the soft light, the music soared and my soul reached for you. 

Born that man no more may die

Born to raise the sons of earth

Born to give them second birth

Born that we might live and not die. Born to lift us to heaven to be with you rather than strike us down and leave us where we deserve to be.

Oh, Father. What mystery is it that you came to earth and poured deity into a tiny wriggling body. How amazing that a young girl heard your voice and said 'Yes, let it be as you say', instead of 'You want me to do WHAT?' 

How wonderful that a good man stood by his faithful young wife and raised a baby that wasn't his?  

He came down to earth from heaven

Who is God and Lord of all

and His shelter was a stable

And His cradle was a stall

And the Saviour of the world had his birth day among animals and shepherds and other odd visitors? (Yes, I know, the wise men came some time later, but you know what I mean).

There isn't a palace in the world that man could make beautiful enough for you. There isn't a cathedral or a landscape or a crown of jewels that befits your majesty - but you chose a little known town in the back of beyond for your entry. 

Why? Because you had a Plan. 

God rest you merry, gentlemen

Let nothing you dismay

For Jesus Christ our Saviour

Was born upon this day

To save us all from Satan's power

When we were gone astray

Yeah, let's stay merry, people! Let's not let anything dilute or diminish the amazing thing that happened. You came to rescue us. You loved us too much to leave us in the mess we'd created, were creating, and would go on to create (and it's quite a mess). You came to bring us home to be with you, because you loved us. 

O, tidings of comfort and joy

Comfort and joy

O, tidings of comfort and joy

If that's not good news, I don't know what is. 

My God, it seemed amazing to me. Emmanuel - God with us. 

God. With. Us. Sing about it. 

Sing, choirs of angels

Sing in exultation

Sing, all ye citizens of heaven above

Glory to God

In the highest

O come, let us adore Him

Christ, the Lord. A tiny baby. 

Why exultation? Exulting? Lively, triumphant joy. Celebration of success, not just happiness. This is a triumph, and the angels could see how profound it was. Everything would be different, now. It was a game-changer. The earth was transformed that night and most people down here were completely oblivious to it, but the angels weren't. 

It was a big deal.

Ding dong! merrily on high

In heaven the bells are ringing

Ding dong! verily the sky

Is riven with angels singing

Gloria 

Hosanna in excelsis!

Riven! The sky was split across with the sound of the angels. Torn apart with the pealing of bells and heavenly host worshipping and celebrating. That must have been some sound.

Ye who sang creation's story

Now proclaim Messiah's birth

Come and worship

Christ the new-born King

We came and we worshipped. The choir sang in harmonies that must have pleased you. The band played music that lead us into your presence and the old songs meant something new.

We got to play a small part in the anniversary of that earth-shattering day in history.

E'en so here below, below...

Even so, here below. In my church, at Christmas 2013. Me. Even me. 

Now to the Lord sing praises

All you within this place

And I closed my eyes (making sure that my candle was still vertical and not dripping wax on the floor or setting fire to anyone's hair or anything) and I remembered the way I saw you on your throne with the scenes of glory and majesty and power and gentleness and unending, dramatic love playing out in your heart and I lifted my small, substandard, stained one to you. 

I think maybe even if we manage to see beyond the turkey and tinsel and gifts and Christmas telly sometimes we get too wrapped up in the tiny baby in a manger and no-crying-he-makes and all that. Even with the benefit of more than two thousand years we might miss the big picture - this baby was God. The Creator and sustainer of life, in a bed made of straw born to a normal girl who believed and her bemused husband. 

Christ by highest heaven adored

Christ the everlasting Lord

Adored by the angels of heaven and adored by me.

The Word made flesh. God with us. 

Oh, God, thank you for my glimpse past the familiar and into the realms of worship. Thank you that I heard an echo of the angels song and you let me add my poorly tuned but enthusiastic voice to the heavenly host.

Glorious now, behold him arise

King and God and sacrifice

Heaven sings, Alleluia!

Alleluia the earth replies

God with us. 

Jesus, our Emmanuel.

Amen and Alleluia. 

I saw you

I saw you. 

I haven't a clue whether what I saw was a glimpse given to me by you yourself, or a construct of my own from all the imagery and art I've seen - but it doesn't matter. One minute it wasn't in my head and the next, it was, in all its detail.

I saw you. 

You were sitting on your throne. I couldn't properly see because the light was so bright, so dazzling, but I knew it was you, and I was on my knees. 

Your throne was huge. Vast and endless. From behind and around it flowed the train of your robe just like this:

'...I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple.'

Isaiah 6:1

Your robe flowed like a river flowing over stones. It rippled and moved all around me and off in all directions. It was a deep, deep red, a King's robe made of velvet or something. Rich and luxurious and constantly moving; a living thing. 

Looking up, (I was so tiny in this picture) I could see your hands on the arms of your throne. Relaxed fingers curving over the arms, short nails and callouses. A proper man's hands. When you lifted them in an open gesture of peace and welcome, I could see the scars on the paler skin of your palms. 

The light was coming from all around you and I could not make out your face. You were not silhouetted, even though the light was behind you - it was streaming from you. White light, dazzlingly bright, with refracted beams of all colours. I could feel the warmth coming as if I was bathed in sunlight, and as you moved the rays of sunlight danced, making patterns on the rippling robe all around me almost like sunlight through water. 

I could not see your face, but I could make out your shape. I caught glimpses of a crown of glistening white metal with jewels of all colours, but no detail. You were seated on your throne and your glory was all-encompassing. I wanted to fall on my face but I could not take my eyes from you. Indeed, your proximity rocked me back on my heels. I opened my arms wide and knelt, watching. Absorbing. 

And then I realised that there was so much more than an outline. I saw pictures in the light at about chest height - it was as if I was seeing your heart. I wish I was an artist and could draw what I saw, because I'm not sure that words are enough. I wish I could make a film with CGI and special effects, because it was constantly shifting. 

I saw a rapidly changing picture. The different scenes flashed past so fast that they were almost subliminal and so describing what I saw is difficult. 

There was an endless sea with the sound of crashing waves. I saw a million starts in a night sky, a sunrise, a desert with twisting sand-dunes, a jungle with brightly coloured exotic birds. I saw forks of lightning in a dark, threatening sky, with great claps of thunder, a roaring lion, an eagle soaring, a huge oak tree, a single red rose.

I saw a couple kissing, a field of corn, a newborn baby crying, a rainbow over rolling hills. There was a little girl in a red dress twirling underneath a shower of apple blossom. I saw waterfalls and towering cliffs and a dandelion clock, heard birds singing, the sound of wind in a silver birch. Icebergs calving, starlings swirling,  leaping flames, drops of dew, rapid cloud formations and shoals of fish in the depths of the ocean. 

It went on and on. It was awe-inspiring, frightening, welcoming, wonderful. I was delighted and unnerved. You drew me in, showing me your immense power, consummate gentleness, your creativity and strength. 

You were all-consuming. Endless and boundless.

There was a sense of life. Hard to pin down - but it was vivid; a living scene. You were giving me a glimpse of who you were; your very nature.

I thought I was the only one there, but I realised that I was in a vast, immeasurable space with countless other people all gathered round you. I was on the front row, and yet there were thousands in front of me and all around. All eyes were fixed on you. Some people were smiling, others with tears streaming down their faces, others eyes closed, basking in the warmth radiating from you.

I felt a flood of emotions. Awe, hope, fear, delight, joy, excitement, peace - but most of all I felt at home. 

I could stay there forever.

The prayer of a righteous man

Jesus prayed for me. 

Yes he did, didn't he?

You remember? Of course you remember. You don't forget. Especially something like this. 

Jesus said a prayer for me. And if you ever answer prayers (which you do) then you will answer his, won't you? The two of you were pretty close, even when he was down here walking and talking and stubbing his toe like the rest of us. 

Alright, maybe not that much like the rest of us. But anyway. 

I've read this bit of scripture before, but it's just come alive for me. 

Thank you. 

I sometimes ask people to pray for me. I might mention it to someone, or send a text, or ask the church to pray on a Sunday in the intercession. I know that prayer is powerful and I know that you answer. 

'The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.'
James 5:16

Yes. 

And there is none more righteous than your Son. 

If Jesus prayed for me, prays for me, then I'm going to be alright. 

Jesus prayed for the disciples and then he said this:

'My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you.'
John 17:20-21

So the disciples knew Jesus and they saw him raised from the dead. They knew him. They knew what had happened because they'd seen it, talked with the risen Christ, listened to him and done as he asked. 

They told people about him. 

Those people told people. 

Those people told people too. 

And so did they. 

Eventually one of the people told me. 

Someone told me about you, and I believed them. 

So Jesus prayed for me. 

'...I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message...'

Jesus prayed that we would all be one. United in our faith. Obviously different, diverse; but one. One with the people who told us the Good News, one with the disciples who first told it, one with the One who started it all - one with God. 

How sad that we fight all the time. How sad that we squabble and bicker and get hung up on words and points of view and trivia. For I am convinced that it is all trivia in the face of the truth. But it isn't trivial when it completely obscures the picture of Jesus that we're supposed to be showing people. It just misses the point. 

Jesus prayed for us. He wants us to be one. 

'Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one - I in them and you in me - so that they may be brought to complete unity.'
John 17:21-23

There's a reason why he wanted us to be united. It's so that people might see us and believe in him. The glory of God shines through me - or at least it should. There are days when any glory in me is deeply buried beneath layers of grumpiness and selfishness and self-indulgent bad temper, but the fact is that I am created to reflect the wonder of God. 'I have given them the glory...' reminds me of:

'Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.' 
Matthew 5:16

I am supposed to live my life in such a way to point people to you, Lord God. I should shine. I should show people your glory, not distract them or indeed put them off.

'The glory of the only begotten shines in all the Sons of God. How great is the majesty of Christians!'
John Wesley.**

It's part of the thing. The disciples told people. Those people told people. One of the people told me - and so I should tell people. And I should do it in such a way that they will listen and understand.

I get it so wrong sometimes; we all do. The church is in disarray. Just look at the state we're in.

In the words of Matthew Henry:

'The more they dispute about lesser things, the more they throw doubts upon Christianity. Let us endeavour to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace, praying that all believers may be more and more united in one mind and one judgement.' *

See? I know that greater minds than mine wrestle with this. Whether it's gay marriage or the ordination of women or the liturgy or saints' days, or minor points of interpretation of scripture or language or the sound the church bells make and how often they should ring I wish we could get over it. I know that good and wise people are trying to bring peace and unity and I don't for one little minute envy the job of Justin Welby, the new Archbishop of Canterbury in trying to unite a church of more than 80 million people who each have an opinion. 

What I am saying is that it's obvious even to those like me who don't know much, don't understand much, don't influence much that we're getting this wrong. 

Does it grieve you, Father? Or does it make you angry? Or do you just look at us with pity because of the sheer waste of it all?

The Lord, Jesus Christ, said:

'...Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.'
John 17:23b

If we are one, we can sing louder. If we're all on the same page of the song, singing in unison, people will hear what we're saying. 

Harmonies are fine, but different words and different tunes from different books sung to a different rhythm at different times and it's just a noise. 

It gets worse when those words are harsh and argumentative and unwelcoming and unforgiving. 

Just saying. 

Here's the amazing thing. Jesus prayed this prayer:

'Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.'
John 17:24

Lord God, you saw the end from the beginning. Nothing surprises you.  You sent your Son to save people who didn't deserve saving and you knew the problems we'd have. You built your church on a group of ordinary people who messed things up on a regular basis. You know the state of our hearts, the confusion of our minds, our struggle to do what is right even though quite often we're not sure what right is.

You love us. In our squabbles and our meannesses as well as in our odd moments of purity and truth. You died for us. You want us to come and live with you for eternity - you actually enjoy our company.

We who let you down so profoundly so often.

You want us to be with you where you are.

Jesus prayed for all of us who would ever turn to him, fall on our knees and say, 'Yes'. Even then, you knew us by name. You knew then all about me and you knew the day and the minute that I would give you my life. You know each of your children inside out.

Jesus prayed for us all.  He asked you to bring us to your heart, to make us safe in you. To allow us to witness the glory of God himself. I'd like this, please. And this is what Jesus prayed for me. It blows my mind.

And there's more. Jesus is still praying for me. Still.

'Christ Jesus who died - more than that, who was raised to life - is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us.' 

Romans 8:34

Even in all my failures, you love me. Your Son is fighting my corner.

He wants me to be with him where he is, one day, when it's time. Me. Me!

So I think that I'm going to be alright.

Amen to that. Oh yes.

  

^{*Matthew Henry, Concise Commentary, Kindle ed. Christian Miracle Foundation Press 2011}

^{** John Wesley, Explanatory Notes on the New Testament, Classic Reprint, Forgotten Books, 2012}

Pictures:


114548445045.jpg by kalierin

<sup>choirbook.jpg by Anita Peppers
JesuitChurch-010105-07.jpg by Zandert

All used from Morguefile.com with permission</sup>

Moonlit night

I am like the moon. 

I am the light of the world - but all my light comes from you. I glow only because the you shine on me. When I was younger I thought that I was all the light that I needed, all on my own, but as I've grown older I realise that I don't have any light of my own at all.  I sit and spin and soak up light and warmth from the source of all light.

You're the only light.

Sometimes, occasionally, people see and comment on my unique beauty - but my beauty too comes from you; it's all because of you. Most often I don't shine brightly enough for people to notice me. Without you to illuminate me I'd be completely dark; the world wouldn't know that I was there. Now and then when there's nothing between you and me to get in the way, that's when I'm best; reflecting your light. On those occasions I shine. Your light bounces from me - I am even a source of inspiration, but always I fade and give way at sunrise.

When I can't see you I am in darkness. The side of me upon which you don't shine is pitch black. No light there at all. I keep this side of me angled away from you all the time. I don't show it to you but I know that you can see it. I can hide nothing from you. Sometimes I long for your light to penetrate through the whole of me and I spin around trying to find illumination through and through but I find so many parts of me are still in need of your light.

I can't do it on my own.

Sometimes, strangely, we're found in the sky at the same time, but if you're there and the sky is blue and you're shining in all your glory I'm hardly noticeable. All eyes are drawn to you, not to me. That's as it should be.

I look faint and fragile. A close examination reveals scars and craters where things have hit me and hurt me, but you have to look carefully.  I have wounds. My injuries left marks that won't go away, and yet it makes me more interesting. Intriguing. The contours of my scars; my imperfections - they tell a story. I can only tell it when I am lit by you.

In the daytime the sun shines and the shadows are banished. There's no darkness when you're there. At night, just sometimes, when I'm big enough and when it's clear and your light finds me just as you intend it to, when conditions are perfect and it all comes together - my light penetrates the darkness too. It does! It illuminates the gloom and brings a subtle, silvery beauty of its own. Nothing like the indescribable golden brightness and majesty of you, but maybe enough to see by. A reflection of you. Enough light to travel by. Enough to see the way forward.

I have a job to do and you enable me to do it. When people look at me, they see you; or that's the idea. Even when the world is in darkness, the light reflected from the moon shows the world that you are still there. You never disappear. You might be just over the horizon but you are always there.

And then, at the end of the night, I will give way to the true radiant Light which floods the world over the horizon with splendour and glory.

That's you. 

Faster, higher, stronger - and more beautiful

Evening, God.

Thankyou for today. It has been a day to remember; I've been at the Olympics.  They say it's a once in a lifetime experience to visit the Olympic Games in my home country and so I've been looking forward to it for so long. We saw the best swimmers in the world doing their thing today and we spent a few hours exploring the wonderful Olympic Park. 

London 2012

There were thousands and thousands of people there - and it felt as if every last one of them was in the aquatic centre shouting at the top of their voices when Rebecca Adlington or Michael Phelps appeared. The atmosphere was wonderful. The children had a rare opportunity to scream as loudly as they liked with total impunity (indeed, approval) and we were all there waving flags, eating wine gums and getting a little bit hoarse. 

The aquatic centre is an amazing feat of  engineering and the main stadium is beautifully photogenic close up. There are sculptures, bridges and different sporting arenas that are elegant and graceful and a monument to man's architectural achievement. Highly appropriate, really, in this sporting tournament to end all tournaments. I'm writing this watching a medal ceremony on the television and the commentator is speaking of honour and pride and the playing of a national anthem as a tribute to an athlete's prowess.

You know what? I loved it. I loved it all. The happy atmosphere, the marshals high-fiving the children on the way in, the beauty of the Park, the excellence of the athletes. But something caught my eye and it made me stop completely and look at things differently.

The planners of the Olympic Park knew what they were doing with the landscaping. Lots of green and lots of trees. A feeling of space and cleanliness and openness. And lots of flowers. 

Beautiful. 

What flowers. Someone had spent a fortune on wildflower seeds and used them liberally. A masterstroke of gardening; banks of wonderful colour that require no intricate tending and, presumably, will come up again next year. Orange and blue and purple and red and yellow and white stretching into the distance and enveloping the spectacular buildings... it was a breathtaking display. People were stopping to gaze and take photographs. It was by no means just me. 

But I noticed something and I have no earthly idea how many other people noticed it as well. Maybe some did. Within and beyond this monument to man was a monument to you. A greater one by far. This one is an achievement that man can't manage no matter how fast, or how high, or how strong. We sow a seed, we water it, but we need you to shine on it and make it grow. It's only you. Amid the world records and Olympic champions and the medals and multi-billion pound developments are growing beautiful wild flowers and that's something that we can't do. No matter how hard we train or how big our budget or how determined we are. 

I know it's only small. I know those flowers were so subtle. Dramatic in display, but individually tiny, but subtle is your thing. You never clobber us in the face with your glory; it's up to us to see it. It will be that way right up until that day when the heavens split open and every last one of us will kneel whether we want to or not. Subtle, gentle and beautiful.

You were there.

Once I'd seen it I saw so many other things. I looked up and saw the sun emerging from behind the clouds with wonderful effect. I saw the children dancing on the multi-coloured pavement with joy in their faces. I saw people holding hands and people laughing and it struck me how privileged we were to be there at all. How there can be no spectacle, and no joy, and no excitement or love without you.

You were there too, weren't you? You were watching the swimmers and the cyclists and the gymnasts and the boxers and the sailors and everyone.  You are not bound by the strange and idiosyncratic rules of ticket acquisition. You don't need a VISA card and you don't need to be ridiculously quick off the mark with a mouse when a ticket or two become available. You were watching them all. What did you make of it? 

More medals than most.

Did any one of those athletes pause to thank you for the miracle of their body? To give you the glory for the wonder of their sporting prowess? Did any of them bow down sometime in private and say, 'Lord, it's all from you - it's all for you?' 

I bet some did. I bet most didn't.  I bet most of them gloried in their muscled and streamlined bodies and felt overwhelming pride when they won. If they have any grace they thank their families, their trainers, their fans. 

Lord, not one of us would be here without you. Not one swimmer, runner, archer or fighter. No-one with exceptional lung capacity or stamina or suppleness or steadiness of hand. No-one a little bit overweight, or riding on a mobility scooter, or queuing for MacDonalds. Not a flower blooms if you don't will it. 

Lord God, thankyou. Thankyou for the spectacle and the skills you have given to these people who dedicate their lives to sporting excellence. Don't get me wrong - I love it. If I could get my hands on more tickets there are so many more events that I'd like to see. I take my hat off to Michael Phelps. All those gold medals? But you taught him to swim. It was you that gave him what he needs to win those medals. I love to watch these people who have worked so hard to create perfect form and peak physical fitness in the body that you gifted to them but I know that you don't love them any more than you love me, with my post-baby tummy and hefty thighs. I move more slowly and with so much less elegance, but you still think that I'm great. 

Champions of the future.

It's a demonstration of your power. Your creativity, that people come in all shapes and sizes. Some of them can win medal after medal and be the fastest or the best in the world in their arena and some have other gifts. Nobody gets a gold medal in your Kingdom except those of us who run the race without giving up and eventually cross the finish line. 

You know what? When I stand on the podium I want it to be in Heaven and because you're proud of me. My country is never going to watch me on the telly and cheer when I beat the best in the world at some sport or other, but if my God cheers me past that finish post and hands me a crown when I arrive, out of breath and wide-eyed, then I'll have done ok. 

I so want my children to see this for what it is. Yes, if they devote their lives to excellence in a field they might or might not find themselves on a podium somewhere while the national anthem plays, but it's more than sport. It's about knowing who they are as princesses in your kingdom. It's about understanding that the gifts that they have are priceless whether they're measurable in world records or in smiles or in pages written or people entering the Kingdom. It's about seeing things for what they really are.

It's about standing in the middle of the multi-billion pound Olympic complex and noticing the flowers.

Thankyou for showing me. I might have missed it, and I would have missed the point and maybe thought that the Olympics are about athletes or national pride or commerce or something.

Thankyou for showing me the flowers and trees and the clouds and the looks on people's faces and the wonder in my daughters' eyes as they revelled in the occasion. 

You are God Almighty. It's all because of you. You're the fastest and the highest and the strongest. Even if not everyone realises it, today was a celebration of you. 

Show me now your glory

Morning, Lord. 

For a couple of days I've had a couple of lines from a song in my head. It's not a song I know very well, and the tune doesn't really grab me, but it's on my worship CD in the car and I hear the start of it sometimes when I put the music on. That probably explains why I only know the opening two lines - I tend to flick to the next track because I don't like this one much (is that wrong? Are you put out that I ignore a song that praises you? Oh dear. Hadn't thought about that much.)

'Show me your ways, show me now your glory.

I want to know you more.'

It's been going round in my head. I was humming it to myself and I found that I was starting to consider what it actually means. I can't argue with the second line - I would love to know you more. It's the demanding tone of the first line that I shrink from, a bit. It sounds a bit stampy to me. 

Show me. Now. 

I know that Moses said these very words to you in Exodus 33: 18

"Then Moses said, 'Now show me your glory.'"

...and you did. You passed by Moses and he got a glimpse of you. Not a hypothetical glimpse, or a symbolic one, but he saw you. Just the back of you, as a full gaze in the face would have blown his mind, but you showed your glory to Moses. He asked you to (or told you to, really - I mean, how did he dare to lay down the law like that? 'Now show me...')

So this song.

'Show me your ways, show me now your glory.

I want to know you more.'

I was walking back from taking the children to school and I noticed the first blossom on a tree on our road. 

Now, you know how much I love Springtime. I love the hope and the newness and the life emerging from things that look old and brittle and dead. Here's the blossom. As I turned into our drive I found more.

It's very beautiful. The light was lovely; it was a very cloudy day but the light was that bright whiteness that sometimes helps to draw my attention to the small things when sunlight and shadow might distract me.  Thankyou for the cherry blossom. I can't wait until the whole of the tree is smothered with it and the sky is blue behind and the world is waking up again and we can shed a layer of clothing and I can start to potter in the greenhouse.

I went home and started to load some photographs from my camera and phone onto the computer and I was still humming the lines,

'Show me your ways, show me now your glory.

I want to know you more.'

The new pictures flashed up on the screen and here was my little girl getting ready for a fancy dress party. Elizabeth had on a princess costume and she was feeling very elegant in it. My little girl, six years old, but all of a sudden with a new demeanour because she was dressed in a beautiful outfit with her hair taken back and ribbons. 

I realised what you were doing. 

Your glory is all around me. Everywhere I look I see you. I see you in the delicate fragility of the cherry blossom and I see you in the innocence and femininity of my lovely girl who's finding out more and more about who she is every day. What she is. A breathtakingly beautiful creation. Unique and precious and loved. My love for her pales into insignificance compared with yours. My daughters are such special gifts. Your glory is reflected in everything, isn't it?

More photos and I kept on meeting you. Sunset from a week ago.

One of those moments where I was out in the garden with the children and glanced up and then ran for the camera and a good vantage point. The sun had set already but the reflection on the clouds was the radiance of you. Glory indeed.

Then it was back to the intricate and detailed again.  Here was my poinsettia from Christmas and I have to say that I have known for a while that it is nothing short of a miracle that my Christmas poinsettia is still with me in March. It is still thriving despite me (though I do make sure that it's water is lukewarm when I give it a drink. Fussy plant...)

Its new leaves, so brightly, vividly green with red veins. Little tiny baby leaves just unfurling. Doing its thing over there on the windowsill as the bustle of family life in the kitchen happens in front of it. As I write this the sun is behind it and it is glowing. Beautiful is an over-used word. It's wonderful.

While we're on the subject of plants, thank you for the little gift you gave me. The cyclamen that I got for my birthday back in September gave its all for me for months and although it still looks green and lush it's been without flowers for a while now. I thought it had done its best but finished for the season and yet all of a sudden, look. A little last flower. It made me smile. It made me think of you. 

It was Katy's birthday the other day. Five years old. Now, I could go on for days about how bewildered I am to be Mummy to two daughters growing up so fast. Katy is five, Elizabeth six, nearly seven. Kate was so excited to be five and her favourite present was a Batman T shirt.  Elizabeth has come over all girly lately with her princess outfit and her baby doll, but Katy is still firmly in the Superhero phase and a real, proper, grownup Batman T shirt hit the spot beautifully on her birthday.

'Show me your ways, show me now your glory.

I want to know you more.'

My little girl was so happy. She felt so brave and dynamic and confident in her Batman T shirt. Watch out world, here comes Katy. Leaping tall buildings in a single bound. Or was that Superman? No matter. She can do that as well.  

Lord God, thank you so so SO much for my girls. How much I can learn from them. From their energy and optimism and imagination. The way that they can find joy in things. Here was my lovely child in a photograph that I love. Her expression a mixture of pride and excitement and happiness. 

 The park on a Sunday afternoon. The joy of a roundabout and rainbow gloves. Hold on tight and feel the wind in your hair.  I thought my heart might explode, I loved them so much. 

Bryan took a day off to be at home for Katy's birthday. It was a great surprise for the girls who thought that he wouldn't be back until Friday as usual and it was such a treat for us to have a day out, just the two of us. Usually Bryan takes holiday when the children are off school so when he's here, usually we're all together. I like it when this happens but on Katy's birthday while she was at school (wearing her birthday badge and Batman T shirt and apparently attracting loads of followers in the playground - the Batkids - don't you just love it?) Bryan and I headed out for the countryside. It was like the old days. When we first moved back to Derbyshire we used to get in the car and drive and stop when there was a good view, or for a bit of a walk, or more often, for coffee and cake. 

Today it was a drizzly, windy sort of day where the moors look somewhat threatening and the cliffs and crags of the High Peak are a bit intimidating; but there was one moment when we were ambling along a country lane with no other people to be seen and suddenly the clouds parted and the sun came out. I stopped the car and rolled down my window and took a picture of what I saw. 

It's not a special scene; dry stone walling is all over Derbyshire and the grass is not very green, the trees bare - but it was a special moment. Seconds earlier it had been unremitting rain under dark, low clouds and then suddenly it was glorious. Grey to gold in a moment - and then back again. This was the moment. Your glory shone through the drizzle.

It was on the news this week that there have been solar flares that meant that it might be possible to see the Northern Lights at lower latitudes than usual. I am a big fan of the Northern Lights, as you know. Bryan and I went on a flight a couple of years ago where the plane put out all its lights and we had talks on the star constellations over the North Pole and we saw the Aurora from the sky. It was breathtaking.

I have always wanted to go to Norway or somewhere and sit outside with a Thermos or two of coffee (or something stronger) and wait for the Aurora Borealis and see it from the ground.  The leaps and swoops and the dancing lights that are a mysterious and joyful present from you, the God Almighty. The one who created all things. Awe-inspiring indeed. Majestic and strange and exciting and spiritual. 

So, there was me the other night hoping to see something if I looked skywards after dark. I popped out into the garden a few times (once forgetting to change out of my slippers and getting them all wet and muddy on the grass) and gazing up into the sky in case of - something - I wasn't really sure what I'd see but I didn't want to miss it. 

What I did see last night took my breath away and I pointed my camera at it in case I could keep it forever. 

Oh God, it was a little glimpse of you. 

The moon with a halo of colour and the clouds like a mountain range. The glow of moonlight lit everything. It changed from moment to moment and then a thick bank of cloud hid it again. Again, mystery. Again, silent but awe-inspiring. You shone through.

'Show me your ways, show me now your glory.
I want to know you more.'

I am running out of words to describe your glory. Indeed the words don't exist. They didn't for Moses, who had to hide behind a rock to be safe from the awe-ful wonder of you, and they didn't for me last night leaning a perilously long way out of my bedroom window to take photograph after photograph of the moon as it rose inexorably into the sky and the clouds changed the picture moment by moment.

All I had to do was look up. How easy it would have been to have missed this spectacle? It was over so quickly and I had to be looking up to see this amazingly precious thing. I spend so much of my life looking down, or inwards, or with my eyes stubbornly closed but this night I looked up - you lifted my head until our eyes met.

I asked you to show me, and you did. I got a glimpse of your majesty. Your beauty. Your creativity. In the blossom and the weather and in my plants and my daughters the complexity and humour and detail and perfect beauty that only the Creator can bring about.

Thankyou from the bottom of my heart. I sat on the windowsill smiling.

More, please. 

Every knee shall bow

'Therefore God exalted him to the highest place

and gave him the name that is above every name,

that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,

in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,

to the glory of God the Father.'

Philippians 2:9-12 NIV

Amen.

I'm not sure that there's anything else worth saying. 

But still, I have more to say. Why are you not surprised?

This morning I had a tune in my head and it was the tune to the famous hymn written around these words. I identified the tune, hummed it, brought to mind which words I could remember and had a little sing to myself in the shower and it grew and grew in my head. 

At the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow,

Every tongue confess him king of glory now;

'Tis the Father's pleasure we should call him Lord,

Who from the beginning was the mighty Word.

I'm looking forward to that day. When every knee bows at your name, Lord Jesus. In heaven, where the angels bow down already; what a day that'll be up there. Down here on this troubled, tired and fearful world, and in the other place as well where I'm guessing that there won't be much celebrating when you come back. Oh Jesus, oh for that day when the whole of creation acknowledges you. What a day that will be.

That day the tension between your Kingdom and this world will be gone. I know that you won't come back as a helpless baby in a stable; there won't be any doubt about who you are or why you've come or any room for interpretation. You will be magnificent. You will come in all your glory. It will be beyond our imagination and it will be unmistakably you. The whole world will know that you are the Lord. 

Lord, when will that be?  There are a lot of times that I am completely at home here; quite possibly too much so. It's often comfortable and easy and complacent and I sit tight in my familiar little world being very much at home. And then...just sometimes... I feel out of place. I find it very hard being here and believing in you and looking around me at all the people who wave you away as irrelevant, or even worse than irrelevant. At all the rubbish that's happening in the world and trying to fathom why you sometimes intervene and sometimes you don't. Looking at the pain and misery and fear and evil and trying in my small, mostly ineffectual way to combat the things close to home. Trying to get it right. Trying to be tactful and understanding and tolerant and loving while standing firm for you; not being shaken by what I don't understand, by other people's challenges or scepticism. Knowing what I know with all my heart and so often failing to communicate that when I should.

I can't wait for the day when I can just sit at your feet and look at you. For the day when it's all out in the open, all there for all to see - that you are the name above all names and there is no-one like you. 

That you are God. The beginning and the end. That all the other things are irrelevances. Nothing else matters.  

Down here other things do matter, Father, and sometimes I find myself bogged down in trivia and unable to separate the real from the imaginary. Worrying, lying awake, trying to get my prayers to express what I want to say to you, giving up and focusing on myself instead - every day falling short of what I would give you if I could. But here's the thing - you love me anyway. My little half-buried sparks of longing to do the right thing - you dig them out and brush them off and treat them as treasure. I take little baby steps and you are delighted in them. You take my life and you hold it in your hands and you love me, imperfect as I am. One day I will be what you want me to be; I will be transformed. The useless stuff hindering me will fall away and all that will be left is the person you created me to be.

Me and an endless sea of perfect creations without any pain or dissatisfaction or unease or self consciousness or worry or tension. Triumphant and full of joy.  

At the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow. I know that this day will come. In this world or the next? Only you know the answer to that one. I don't know if it will only be when I am with you in Heaven and I am surrounded by all the people who have ever loved you. I shall do as they do. I shall find St Paul and ask him about so many things. I shall find doubting Thomas and thank him for making me feel so much better about myself.  I shall find Peter and tell him what an inspiration he's been. I shall find Martha and tell her I find it hard to sit and listen as well. I shall find Moses and David and Abraham and Joshua and Solomon and James and Mary and all the others and I shall probably not have the courage to talk to them. Or maybe I will. Maybe I'll be one of them. 

But I'm starting to ramble. 

...and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,

to the glory of God the Father.'

You are Lord. You are the glorious Lord and one day the whole of creation will see your glory and fall at your feet and that's how it should be. 

Brothers, this Lord Jesus shall return again,

With his Father's glory, with his angel train;

For all wreaths of empire meet upon his brow,

And our hearts confess him King of glory now.

Let your kingdom come, Lord Jesus. 

The glory of the Lord

Hey, God.

Days like today your glory is easy to see. I was out in the countryside today and it was glorious.  It was a bright, sunny, oh-so-cold but glorious day (there it is again). Crisp and fresh, the frost and ice were doing wonderful things on each blade of grass (and again) and I spent Grown Up time with two very special friends of mine. 

So all these good things happened to me today. And apple cake happened as well, a slice as big as my head, actually, and a nice latte, good company, beautiful surroundings....

Thankyou that you're not a distant, inscrutable God who never gives us any clues as to who you are - it's written all around us.

A few weeks ago there was more snow than you could shake a stick at but no two flakes were the same. No two. Thanks that even when it's cold enough to have frost on the inside of the windows, the crystals are unique and beautiful and with the sun behind them, they take your breath away.

Why?  I'm sure that nobody would have objected if you'd made all snowflakes the same; it probably wouldn't have crossed anyone's mind to think, 'Crikey, these snowflakes are all the same. That's a bit dull'. 

But you made each one different yet still beautiful just because you could. Just for fun.  You put the stars up there, the planets and the supernovas and the comets and you made them beautiful, just because it pleased you to do it that way. Creator indeed.

The source of Creativity.

What a heart you must have to give so freely all those gifts of loveliness just in a day's work. Does it please you when we notice? When we don't just walk on by? When we pause to examine the ice on the windscreen before we scrape it off and put the demister on? Or do you watch, mildly disappointed, when we don't turn to look at the rainbow, or we're too busy being grumpy with other drivers to notice the way the sun comes through the trees?

Anyway, there's more. On Wednesday this week I sacrificed a trip to the gym (ha!) to help out at Katy's nursery because they were having a visit from Bob the Owl Man. He brought in four of his owls to meet the children (nerves of steel these owls) and to teach the little ones a bit about owls. Rocky the Barn Owl flew silently from one end of the gym to the other, so silently that all the children were fooled when Bob asked them if they could tell where he was with eyes closed. I knew they were quiet, but it amazed me.

Later Katy and I had a turn to go close to one of the owls (a White Faced Scops Owl, name of Gizmo) and Bob gave Katy a special glove and waved some food so that Gizmo landed on her arm. At less than arms length (her arms aren't very long) he was just spectacular.  Enormous bright orange eyes, sharp, sharp claws, such fabulous feathers.

I was so glad that Kate didn't want to go to the front on her own (though I did try to encourage her to, honestly!) because it meant that I had an opportunity to see Gizmo from close quarters as well. I love birds, generally, but this creature was a masterpiece. Got to hand it to you.  And Gizmo's relatives in the wild come out at night, when they rarely get seen! It's not as if you show off your works of art for us to admire. You did it just because.

I suppose I could leave it there, just letting you know that I'm full of praise and admiration for a job more than well done.  That would be enough.

But those things - the scenery, the frost, the stars, even the owl - it doesn't end there.  Anyone can see that they're beautiful and I bet many many people who don't know you might suspect that you're there when they stop to look and think and marvel.

It occurred to me that you show yourself to me in much more subtle ways as well.  Take my friends, for instance.  Today I sat in a cafe and chatted and drank coffee and my friends showed me you. How blessed am I in life with one or two special people who love me, who are consistent and caring and reliable and honest. Friends who listen and to whom I can listen, with whom I seem to fit together. They're not related to me, and the commitment they make and honour isn't a formal one in any sense, but they're there, and I can count on them. They support me, advise me, laugh and cry with me and bring the best out of me.

That's a little piece of your glory too.

Last night I went singing at church - a group of about twelve of us, largely made up of the Worship Group, semi professional musicians and serious singers with decades of music experience and buckets of talent, and then me. I had a great time, thanks to the patience and humour of those I was standing near.

I just loved it; in that group was a lovely feeling that we were there just to lift to you our voices and some well chosen words; to please you. We had fun worshipping you. For your glory. And you were there. I think you must have been smiling. Even if it was only at the way I couldn't follow the right melody line and kept swapping inadvertently between alto and tenor.

It happens so often, if only we see it. The way Katy or Lizzie puts their hand in mine, or spontaneously reaches for a hug, somebody doing something incredibly brave that you hear about on the news, that ache I get in my jaw when I first take a sip of a full bodied cabernet sauvignon on a Friday night after a long week.

Little moments that you send for me for no other reason than to make me happy - moments that show me a glimpse of the glory of your spirit.  Earth is far from perfect but there still can be found the reflection of your glory when my eyes are really open. And not just when we're singing together on Sunday and it feels as if the angels have lifted off the church roof so that I can hear their voices too. Though that's pretty good.

Help me to see it, to have my eyes open, instead of going through my days asleep or focused on things too close up that I can't see far enough into the distance.

Thankyou for today, the way you came to my mind in so many ways.

Lord, you are beautiful indeed.

For the kingdom, the power and the glory are yours, now and forever.

Amen.