Joy, sister

Here's a little anecdote. A true story. 

New York city, nineteen ninety something. Backpacking with a friend. The Empire State building, the Twin Towers, the Staten Island Ferry and the Statue of Liberty in one weekend and then, before we caught a train somewhere else, Sunday worship at a cavernous New York church.

It was held in a huge theatre right in the heart of Manhattan. There were thousands of people swaying to music and and the service hadn’t even begun.  A vast gospel choir in red and purple robes with big white collars straight out of the Blues Brothers had a band with guitars, keyboards, a five piece rhythm section and more brass than you could shake a stick at. Swirling spotlights played on the congregation as the music got louder.

Then, without warning, a small, bald man with an impossibly shiny head trotted out from the wings, bowed to the assembly and began to convulse. 

Read the rest over at the Association of Christian Writers' Blog, which is called More Than Writers, and can be found here.  I post on the 23rd of each month. Come and have a look around! 

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. 

A door flung wide

Oh my God.  You are just wonderful.

You know what?  I've seen a little bit of heaven. I'm sure that sometimes you do show us a little bit of heaven, don't you? Just occasionally it's as if that door just opens a smidge and we get a glimpse of what's inside before it softly closes again. Sometimes it's a glimpse that I can see - like tonight's beautiful sunset, or a really clear night when there seem to be a million more stars than last time I looked.

Sometimes it's an emotional moment when I can really feel your Holy Spirit and that door seems for a moment to have been flung wide open for a time onto a brightness that makes me blink; a warmth that makes me shiver, a wonderful speechless joyful feeling that I want to cling onto and never let go of... and then it fades and Life reasserts itself again.

I just gather these moments up and hold them in my heart and fetch them out later to examine and smile over.

Sometimes in church the worship just comes together and I feel as if I'm in your presence. I don't mean that the band are particularly good, though they might be; and I don't mean that it's because the 'right' songs have been chosen, though they might be my favourites. I don't even mean that it's because I'm in the right frame of mind to worship, though that might be the case too. Sometimes it happens with none of these, or only one or two. It just sometimes happens. When it does, it's as if we can join in with the angels and I can feel you with me, and around me and see you smiling, and it's just indescribable.

A little look at heaven, just to keep me going.

The other night we sang harmonies in church, acapella style (though giving it a proper technical name doesn't sit easily with me since I am so unmusical. I'm sure that what everyone else was doing was acapella; what I was doing was leaning into the person next to me and trying to hit the same notes they were singing, preferably in the same order and roughly the same time).  We've been practicing the same songs for three weeks now and they are sounding beautiful.  Something special happened as we sang - it seemed as if you came yourself to listen to us and it felt as if we were making you happy. I hope so.  It was an amazing time. I didn't want to stop. 

Those are the moments when I know that an eternity spent at the foot of your throne is going to be heaven indeed. 

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.