Even the elements of Creation paused in horror. How could this be happening? What measure of Love accepts crucifixion to redeem a lost world? What kind of people smash rough nails through ankles and hands, offer vinegar and insults, and mock the dying Man?
Darkness came upon the Land. Earth quaked. The dead, disturbed, disturbed the city.
A hardened executioner, expert in Death, trembled and murmured “Surely this was the Son of God.” So the skies grieved and the angels recoiled and the laughter of Hell reached a crescendo- then stopped, dead.
This corpse is like no other. Hell has no power; Greatest of Accusers, Satan, falls silent, dreading the next Battle. Already the smoky deceit of the Liar is being challenged, confronted by Christ. “Send guards to the tomb! Seal the stone, the biggest of Stones, over a gaping grave…” Jesus is dead… yet He refuses to bow down to the Deathmaster.
Let Caiaphas sweat, and Pilate dream nightmares of an Innocent, let Herod the Fox hear the Hounds of Heaven scenting the quarry. Even an Emperor, far off in Rome, cannot command the Christ. Though Jesus gave up his spirit, his story does not finish on the Hill of the Skull.
“For on the Third Day…” said Jesus, “I will Rise.”
One white petal. It’s the only white petal on this dahlia in three years. Does it spoil the flower? Not in my eyes. I love the warm apricot and crimson shades of this dahlia: but the white stands out symbolising purity and innocence, and with a touch of sadness.
Appropriate for today.
As I looked at this beautiful flower through the camera lens, the difference of the one petal made me think about the tragedy of history and the need for peace and justice. So often we allow “differences” to become excuses. They’re different- so we can insult, exploit, fight, kill… Then those who have suffered hurt and loss seek vengeance… and the cycle of hatred fans flames again.
I am meditating on three Bible passages. The first is a “9:11” …. describing life for humans.
Ecclesiastes 9:11 (TNIV) I have seen something else under the sun: The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong, nor does food come to the wise or wealth to the brilliant or favour to the learned; but time and chance happen to them all.
The second is taken from Matthew’s Gospel. These verses (from a King James Bible) were found at Ground Zero, and the page had somehow been fused to the rubble.
Matthew 5:38-39 (TNIV) “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.”
My third verse is from the ancient prophecy of Micah, pointing out that our hope of true justice and peace is found in God, not the wisdom and folly of humanity. I have chosen the “Message” translation of this verse, because it catches the mood using very down-to-earth modern phrases.
Micah 4:3 (Message) He’ll establish justice in the rabble of nations and settle disputes in faraway places. They’ll trade in their swords for shovels, their spears for rakes and hoes. Nations will quit fighting each other, quit learning how to kill one another.
A prayer: Lord God, may that Day come soon. And until then, help all of us to be peacemakers, healers, forgivers, carers, and devoted to Love and Justice for all. Amen.
“It’s raining again” sang Supertramp, “you know it’s hard to pretend…”
A broken love, disappointment, bereavement, ruined plans, a pandemic… We know the feeling. The rain just goes on and on, and we try put a brave face on things even as we are dying inside.
A wise man once commented “There are no strong people.”
You may not agree completely, but anybody and everybody can be broken. As I write, there are brave people in Afghanistan feeling utterly desperate. Another earthquake hit Haiti last week, wreaking havoc once more. War in Yemen. Discarded people in Britain living on the streets, families using foodbanks to survive (in one of the wealthiest nations in the world!). Millions of impoverished ordinary human beings in every continent trodden down into the mud as the rains keep pouring down.
Even Jesus said “The poor will always be with you.” Sounds grim.
Every person’s own suffering is uniquely valid and equally heartrending: and ours is the first generation to experience at second-hand the tragedies of the whole world in real time. Super-fast communication means the “NEWS” lashes the ears and eyes of the planet within moments of disaster. The pace of information overload has increased exponentially over the last 100 years- we are so soaked in it that we have a phrase, “compassion fatigue,” to express our diminishing responses and our helplessness. Many do try to help, and astonishing generosity makes a difference sometimes: but against that, others with wealth and influence take a selfish view and wash their hands of the problems.
The rain just goes on and on, and we try put a brave face on things even as the world dies.
“The rain falls upon the just
And also on the unjust fellasBut mostly it falls upon the just
Cause the unjust
have the just’s umbrellas.”
~ Cormac McCarthy
But we are not without hope. The consistent message of the Bible is that God cares for all, has a special care for the poor and suffering, and WILL establish justice- with or without our help.
Pretending not to be affected by trouble is simply unreal and ultimately unsuccessful. Trying to solve all the world’s problems is beyond our scope- the best we can do is make a difference to this one… and the next one… and so on. My responsibility- and yours- must be to do what we can; and to be as trustingly obedient to God as we can. The Book of Revelation has a lovely phrase about special trees in a time yet to come: “and the leaves are for the healing of the nations.”
To love God, and to love God’s ways, is the only hope-filled life choice we can make: to love Him, and work with Him, and to recognise the scope of Jesus as Saviour, Redeemer, and Lord of all Creation that yearns to be reconciled- even as we run away from the Reconciler! When the rains fall, and fall, and fall… it’s time to fall on our knees and cry out to God for help. He will answer… even though we live through the cloudburst. There is hope.
This is what God is like- in a verse taken from a song of faith, thousands of years old. Hold on to this description of the Just and Holy God Eternal- which was lived out in the flesh by Jesus Christ.
Psalm 113:7 (NIV) “He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap…”
So this is Pegasus, chained to Earth?
Sculptor's whimsy, cast in bronze,
connected to water and spitting in the wind.
And standing silent, Neptune's nephew,
staring skyfull, whip in hand-
doomed to fixed gaze and colder heart.
Nightmare vision- Is this dragon, horse, or fish?
Or who is he, metallic ribcage, futile youth?
Perhaps the artist had bad dreams.
Who paid the bill for this eternal fountain?
Whose coin transmuted to statue?
Why is it here? Whose story is told?
Beside such immobile angst, grass glows
in sun beam, illuminating spray:
Vast pot holds tulips, markers of wealth.
'Tis a place where influence waned,
indulgent extravagance faced down tax- and lost.
Now simply memory, bronzed.
God has placed eternity in our hearts-
we long to last, to survive, make a mark.
Generations fade as does our fame.
We build, we sculpt, we carve time
with stone or metal, even flowers-
so we are remembered, missed- perchance, loved?
Arc of water, droplets sinking swift
in pool lined with stone and lead;
vain refreshing of history's pages.
There is still living, and garden, and hope;
and we gaze blankly at a coded message
that says... I mattered once, and maybe still.
What memorial, engraved, will tell my tale?
I doubt a statue be raised for me!
Hush, my soul, pay that no mind.
Though I live as servant, and speak of grace
unless my heart beats compassionate love-
then my words fail, and pass to dust.
Here, then, Saviour of creatures and all,
be the Craftsman who shapes my life,
my deeds, and my sculptured heart.
Let Living Water shoot forth in peace
to cool the eyes and feet of pilgrims.
May I testify to Eternal Love! Let that be memorial enough.
God, make me like this tree- strong, scarred, but alive. The snow hides my imperfections, the wounds of living- but I cannot pretend I am still whole, hale and hearty. Have compassion on me!
Today the news is bad- the virus is out of control and we are again in lockdown, perhaps for weeks. We are despairing, grieving, and frightened for ourselves, our loved ones, for health & jobs, hospitals & schools, shops & vital services.
I am rooted in Your Love, O my God, knowing mercy and grace at Your hands, and I am daily trusting You can keep me through the storms of life.
“This too shall pass.”
Lord, the deeper my roots sink into Your Being, the stronger I remain- let me drink deep of grace. There will be Spring, new life for the world, for me. Help me to endure the cold wind, the sorrow, the storm.
Only in You do I put my trust, and You are faithful.
My God and my King, my Saviour and Friend, I shall stay strong- because You are my strength and shield.
When winds blow cold and fierce, lend me Your strength.
In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
A Lament for Lockdown, January 2021 (c) Richard Starling
Today – the 75th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz & Birkenau, the infamous Nazi death camps. It is Holocaust Memorial Day: and we should never forget. Words are inadequate but they are all I have. This is my Lament for the Jews, Gypsies, cast-outs, unwanted, despised… all the victims of what happens when evil thoughts are let loose.
shed on concrete floors
wiped away by skeletal kids
by noxious hatred
with genocidal solutions
Lest we forget
should make us cry
so our generations
never repeat killing
by decree of expediency
Camps of Death
liberated by shocked soldiers
to save the few
Too late for millions
we must never forget
Auschwitz and Birkenau
for God’s sake
And theirs, hid in a river of tears.
(c) Richard Starling, Holocaust Memorial Day, 27th Jan 2020