“In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple.”

I have watched this series of talks during this last week and I have been utterly moved, convicted, and shaken to my soul.

(Linked originally shared by Tonia and Seth)

Rich Christians in an age of Hunger.... (More Prayerful Thoughts)

"This is the kind of fast day I'm after:
to break the chains of injustice,
get rid of exploitation in the workplace,
free the oppressed,
cancel debts.
What I'm interested in seeing you do is:
sharing your food with the hungry,
inviting the homeless poor into your homes,
putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad,
being available to your own families."
Isaiah 58

"He will answer them, 'I'm telling the solemn truth: Whenever you failed to do one of these things to someone who was being overlooked or ignored, that was me—you failed to do it to me.'Mathew 25

James 5:1 Come now, you rich, weep and howl for your miseries which are coming upon you.

Luke 6:24 "But woe to you who are rich, for you are receiving your comfort in full.

Luke 16:25 "But Abraham said, 'Child, remember that during your life you received your good things, and likewise Lazarus bad things; but now he is being comforted here, and you are in agony.

1 Timothy 6:9 But those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a snare and many foolish and harmful desires which plunge men into ruin and destruction.

He who gives to the poor will lack nothing,
but he who closes his eyes to them receives many curses.
Proverbs 28


Photo credit Mio Cade

Let my soul be at rest again...

Let my soul be at rest again,
for the Lord has been good to me.
He has saved me from death,
my eyes from tears,
my feet from stumbling.
And so I walk in the Lord’s presence
as I live here on earth!

Psalm 116 7-9



Photo credit: KarenR-TB

Some Other Summer Day

beneath the soft petaled
veil the past and future lay
bare, trembling
vulnerable, upon the thin
balance between yesterday
and tomorrow
you could call it
faded beauty but
only without the eyes
to see the vision embraced
inside a little green pod within
it's heart
All petals have to fall, all veils
come undone
pollen must fade to memory
and colour absorb into
the ground
before
a life can be reborn
in a hundred different ways
across the grassy plains of
some other summer day.

Multitudes on Monday. How Hope Can Grow from the Debris of Dreams

I am walking home, weighed down with plastic bags that cut through my fingers like cheese slicers. Somehow they're filled to the brim with a weeks worth of shopping for £10.

On this heat worn and frayed, summer day, I'm sixteen years old and thinking, "however did country girl me ever come to be living in the middle of this strange city?"

Home is a two storey terrace shared with 5 unconnected, disconnected souls displaced in one place for a transitory period. Almost feels like a sentence we've been given, to share this one cell for and allotted time before one leaves and another inmate arrives to replace. I have discovered that one face becomes another too easily in a city.

Sometimes it seems I could be in Turkey, North Africa or even Jamaica depending upon which side of the street I'm on. Yardy boys at plantain stalls, women draped in black, serene, guarded, silent, men smoking roll ups in pool rooms and the ever lingering smell of kebabs and hot oil.

Disorrientation fills the air with a thousand unnamed voices giving different directions to the right bus I need to take home.

The heavy air of traffic clogged streets in summer time and the swirling synthetic rainbows of rain laced with petrol turns my thoughts to fog...

Two years later and I'm on the brink of leaving for another country all together.

During the intermission of this "time between", too many lines have been written, scenes been played out, lines spoken and hurts, rehashed, re-played and re-enacted on this stage.

Now all I want to desperatly do is hide in the wings for one night. Curl up into the nothingness of annonimity.

So I travel toward the heart of the city. Following the clogged ateries, mainlines and thread veins of skinny streets, pumping, faster and faster, harder and harder as I get closer to the center.
Convulsing like the strobe lights that seep from darkened doorways as stars begin to dissolve into the orange glow of street lamps.

I'm pregnant, but I don't know it yet.

Exsausted, I find myself sitting on the steps of west end musical stage show on the cusp of an evening's performance.

I hear the clink of shoes on cobble, I smell the static of excitement in foreign voices. French vowels bubble up from the dank and drenched tarmac like champagne.

It is raining heavily and I have no place to go.

I close my eyes and try to find a small corner of quiet.
My ears have throbbed with the noise of this city for so long I hear the conversations between taxi cabs and Double Decker buses in my dreams.

Slowly it comes into view....

The outline of a tree in the distance, branches tanned golden in the sun, bark gilded and shivering, leaves trembling.

It seems too far away to be real. I begin to squint, as I dare to look up a little.

Clouds part mutly. Beneath them the sky is powder blue, it seems to roll out forever.

Somewhere in the far away, I hear a child laughing and some long grass brushes against my legs as I walk.

Then, without warning, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

I turn abruptly, defensive, instinctivly.

No, no one is moving me on this time, this hand simply rests, and waits...

I don't know who it is who gently rests their hand and speaks my name.

One day years from now I will understand. Recognise the voice who called me away that day.

In the white noise of dislocated memories and fears, manifested by what I thought would numb them. A cold sea of concrete, a pavement fractured and scarred, covered with a liquid neon ointment.
Somehow I heard.
Somehow I stumbled
to my feet that day
and followed.

And somehow, now, I find myself sitting beneath tree, that was once nothing but the small seed of His hope, the echo of His voice, in my heart.

Branches tanned golden in the slender sunlight of late summer.

The storm clouds dissolved a long time ago in the blue transparency of this sky of hope. Endless, limitless, boundless, eternal...

I hear a child laughing, now two, now, three, now four.

And the sound heals the wounds that tears once furrowed. Eroding saltwater, carved out a hollow for freshwater to pool.

And I drink long drafts of thankfulness.

All the while as the long grass brushes against my legs while I walk.

I still feel that hand on my shoulder.


Thank you Lord for Summer memories ,

Each cherished moment in which to linger with my children,

The words of friends who encourage with their courage. And give me the courage to share too.

Thank you Lord, for taking my hand towards future life that heals the wounds of the past.

And the wonder of now,

Thank you for the miracle within the small seed of your own hope which you plant in hearts.

It can even grow a "forever home" where trees and blue skies and sunlight emerge from the debris of dreams of a once lost and homeless girl.

The sum of Humilty...

" If you have five gifts and you think you have six, that’s not humility;
if you have five gifts and you say you have only four, that's not humility;
if you have five gifts and you say you have five and you thank only yourself for them, that’s not humility.
But if you have five gifts and you say you have five and you thank God for them, that's humility.

The point of it is that humility is just the truth."




Photo credit: Theresa Elvin

Just a little note and update...

Just to update.... now that the new school year beckons I have started to write again over at Scraps of Starlight my homeschooling blog...

:)

JOY (a post revisted from the archives)

Happiness.

There are definitely two kinds.

The first kind is conditional.

The second kind is unconditional.

What does this mean?

Well the first kind is dependant upon my external circumstances. It is integral to what I have and what I am able to do.

It's about my own expectations and how I live up to them. It's about making my own rules and sticking to them (however suffocating they may be). It's about setting my own standards and trying to live up to them however different they mey be from God's standards and priorities for my life.

It's all about satiating that which I am unsatisfied with instead of finding contentment with what I have been given.

In real terms, it comes down to having a long hot soak in a bubble bath as opposed to the typical mummy's military shower at the first light of dawn!

It comes down to being able to read through a novel uninterrupted on a Sunday afternoon as opposed to the same dog-eared half chewed ABC storybook, for the tenth time before lunchtime.

It comes down to doing as I want, when I want and having what I want how I want it.

Parenthood challenges this definition of happiness. It shakes the foundations of this building and knocks it clean to the ground.

Once the dust has cleared what is left in the debris is the second kind of happiness.

The unconditional kind of happiness.

This kind of happiness looks a little different from what we have come to suspect. It can take a while before we recognise it:0)

This kind of happiness lends itself more to the word joy.

God Blesses this kind of happiness :0)

Joy finds miracles in the ordinary.

Joy finds the sacred in the everyday.

Joy sees the beautiful painting before the mess on the kitchen table.

Joy sees the rainbow instead of the rain

A few little words on Joy

It is the consciousness of the threefold joy of the Lord, His joy in ransoming us, His joy in dwelling within us as our Saviour and Power for fruit bearing and His joy in possessing us, as His Bride and His delight; it is the consciousness of this joy which is our real strength. Our joy in Him may be a fluctuating thing: His joy in us knows no change. James Hudson Taylor

Any one can sing in the sunshine. You and I should sing on when the sun has gone down, or when clouds pour out their rain, for Christ is with us. Anonymous

Joy is not the absence of suffering. It is the presence of God. Robert Schuller

Joy is prayer - Joy is strength - Joy is love - Joy is a net of love by which you can catch souls. God loves a cheerful giver. She gives most who gives with joy. The best way to show our gratitude to God and the people is to accept everything with joy. A joyful heart is the inevitable result of a heart burning with love. Never let anything so fill you with sorrow as to make you forget the joy of the Christ risen. Mother Teresa

Joy, not grit, is the hallmark of holy obedience. We need to be light-hearted in what we do to avoid taking ourselves too seriously. It is a cheerful revolt against self and pride. Our work is jubilant, carefree, merry. Utter abandonment to God is done freely and with celebration. And so I urge you to enjoy this ministry of self-surrender. Don't push too hard. Hold this work lightly, joyfully. The saints throughout the ages have witnessed to this reality.... You know, of course, that they are not speaking of a silly, superficial, bubbly kind of joy like that flaunted in modern society. No, this is a deep, resonant joy that has been shaped and tempered by the fires of suffering and sorrow; joy through the cross, joy because of the cross. Richard J. Foster

Happiness depends on happenings; joy depends on Christ. Anonymous

Where others see but the dawn coming over the hill, I see the soul of God shouting for joy. William Blake

“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law (Galatians 5:22)”

These things have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full. (John 15:11)"

JOY

Jesus Others Yourself

(Jesus: first, others: second, yourself: last)

Summer 2009 .... so far :)