On the Falling Tide- Look, See, Pray

Waiting, hoping, needing.
The glue-like mud clings heavily, like lead weights.
We watched the tide go out and the sparkling waters
became a twisting path to desolation.
How strange that, at the lonely times,
the little glory left behind causes disappointment
reminding us only of what we used to have.

Our vision is blurred by the mist of tears
and the plaintive whistle of curlew and gull
draws attention to what we have lost.

Surely the rhythmic tide will come sweeping back?
There are tides, and times, and seasons
but the turning point has delayed so long
that our dreams are ashes, scattered,
and heartache holds our spirit
in the grip of the vice of despair.
How long, O Lord, how long?

Who can tell the lonely ones with the ravaged hearts
that peace flows, like a river, towards the sea of grace?

How long, O Lord? When will mercy come?

desolation 002Pagham 140418edited

A lament over the state of the Church and the nations.

The last century has seen the tide retreat as faith is devalued, morality has divorced wisdom, and entertainment has become the opiate of a purposeless people.

As God’s people pray, we raise burning candles toward the sky, each one contributing a light to call upon the Light of the World.

If you read this far and your heart is stirred for the nation, please join in prayer: and if you wish, share this post on your timeline in the hope of others also crying out to Christ.

Lord, bring the tide of compassionate love over the mud and sorrow of these days. Amen. May true grace be with you.

 

Text and photos (c) Richard Starling, 2019

Surprised by Joy – Look, See, Pray

Supermarket shopping. As I drove home the sea was almost still; just enough of a wind ruffle to make the surface sparkle like stars.

Turned the corner to be confronted with a mass of creamy white blossom on a hedge.

I began to feel a strange surge of delight at what I was seeing. Joy sneaked up on my lips and cracked them into a smile. I felt GOOD about life and beauty and the cosmos.

Spring’s blessing continued to present itself in every garden, hedge, tree and sunbeam. How had I not noticed all this before? By the time I was home and unloading the car the inner joy was bubbling nicely. It was a lovely surprise. Ironically, I have been training myself to take notice, to look out for beauty and colour and gifts of grace. It still came as a surprise today!

C S Lewis, the author of the Narnia stories, the Ransom trilogy (and a whole shedload of books on theology, ethics, and Christianity) described his discovery of faith in a book called simply “Surprised by Joy.”  Moving from a position of non-belief, Lewis found himself overtaken by a joyful process that brought him to a passionate belief in Jesus Christ. Out of that change, he wrote extensively and became one of the best apologists and philosophers of the 20th century.

I photographed this rosebud when I arrived home. It is the first rose of the year in my garden. Bright red, beautiful, and another joyful surprise.

May your day be filled with joy, surprise, beauty- and God’s love.

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Ravages of Time? – Look, See, Pray

Gentle giants showing their age… Beech trees responding to another warmer season. In just a few short weeks they had received a bright green makeover, and paraded their party togs with pride.

It was still and quiet in the wood. Footsteps crunching through last year’s leaves and the infrequent song of the birds were the only real sounds.

Something about the strength and dignity of these old Lords of the Forest held my attention.

Pitted and scarred by the experience of the years; damage from insect, storm and time has marred the beech bark. One tree already uprooted, perchance victim of an unnoticed tragedy? Who knows when or why it fell? Younger saplings will make their takeover bid in due time. For now, these mighty beeches stand, adding leaf-mould every autumn and hosting the harbingers of Spring after every winter’s cold tale. In their summer prime, the canopy of green provides shelter, food and pleasure to all life that passes through the wood.

At first sight, these are just old trees, marked by the ravages of time. Spend time here in the wood, and listen, and the story of persistence and fruitfulness will be told again. Ravaged? Maybe.

Badges of honour, I would say. They have grown where they were planted, they have done their part in the long story of the years- they have outlasted many humans- and they have given away their seed with generous purpose.

Here’s a thought. As I look back over the last thirty or so years of sharing in Christian community, I have seen a marvellous selection of strong, dignified, generous people. Marked by the passage of time, wounded and pained by failures and successes, they still stand firm on their faith foundation. Old? True enough… but wise, and patient, and persistent. Love has brought them this far, and the future holds no dread. Kindly endurance gives backbone to their “forest” and the long tale of their years encourages the next generations. Blessed are those whose roots dig deep into the rich soil of Eden’s distant cousin. Blessed are those who drink deep of the Water of Life and share their fruitfulness. To them is promised a Spring with no more Winter.

Living life to the full means risking the scars and inheriting the Kingdom. Give thanks for the giants we have known, honour them in our prayers, observe their example. A well-wrinkled face is a portrait of love lived with a smile in the heart. Alleluia!

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Light brings Life

Such quick change.  A few weeks ago, the wild daffodils earthed the sunshine and made the world a cheerier place.

Just a few weeks later the trees are breaking their buds and soft new leaves clothe the landscape. These back-lit copper beech leaves blend vibrant colour with downy gentleness.

Soon those leaves will turn darker in colour: but will continue turning sunlight into nutrients, and absorbing carbon dioxide so oxygen can become the breath of life.

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Easter celebrations have reminded us of Jesus, who is the Light of the World. Shining the Light of Glory out of the mouth of an Empty Tomb, the grace of Almighty God announced that Darkness and Death were destroyed.

Eternal Light is making Life grow again.  Every time we witness the awesome ordinariness of a Spring day, and the procession of colour and song provided by nature, a spark of True Light is planted in our innermost being. We may not recognise it, we may even try to hide it- but that Light is a gift, a message of Love sent by the Faithful One who will use any opportunity to call us back into divine Presence and awareness.

I intend to enjoy as many moments of Spring Light as I can: and hope that my heart will interpret the Message wisely, so that my whole being is infused with that Heavenly Light that has always been the Light of all humankind. Let us look, so that we see: and in seeing, we may pray, praise, and serve the Kingdom of God here on Earth- until the final Promise is unveiled, and the heavens and Earth will be renewed as the Lord dwells among us.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it…”  (John 1 v1-5)

 

Precious Silence- Look, See, Pray

Holy Week is generally full of the hustle of frenetic activity. Jesus entered Jerusalem to be acclaimed as a King. He stirred up a load of trouble when He cracked the whip to drive out the cheats and exploiters from the Temple:  “This should be a House of Prayer!”

The end of the week is full of betrayal, heart-breaking prayer, injustice and a Cross.

Squeezed in the gap is the one day where it seems silence reigned. The Gospels don’t say anything much about this one day. As far as we know, it was a day of quiet for Jesus.

Silence and growth go together. The glorious tulips bloom without fanfare. New leaves break out of tight buds. In silence.

A world full of noise and words need to draw breath.

Silence is an invitation to listen for the Presence of God. In the rush of Holy Week, Jesus has moments of quiet reflection and prayer- he prepares himself for what must happen.

Others use the silence to conspire and prepare trouble. Who knows what was going through the mind of Judas? Pilate? Caiaphas? Herod?

“We need silence to be able to touch souls” said Mother Teresa as she served the poorest and most abandoned people on the streets. Actions speak louder than words when we share love with the helpless.

Will this silence touch MY soul? Will silence prepare me to love with compassion? When all the drama ends in the silence of an empty tomb, will I be more or less in the Presence and Awareness of God? When my lips convey the message of hope- He is Risen! – will my soul- and yours– have been in that quiet still place where silence has proclaimed Truth?

For we speak of Christ crucified, and shown to be Saviour and Lord, through His death and resurrection. For the sake of our souls, let us grasp silence and learn to grow. Amen.

Teresa silence leaves

 

 

Another point of view…

Another point of view… seeing the prayer on the top of the breakwater.

Lord, that wooden post has been there years. Every day the sea floods it, covers it, bashes it and abandons it. What kind of life is that?

Barnacles, seaweed, a limpet or two. Nobody pays attention unless they happen to scrape their leg on it! What kind of life is that?

Seagulls stand on it, crabs walk round it. Dogs pee over it after chasing the seagulls away. Waves crash into it. What kind of life is that?

Resistance is futile, says the sea- we will assimilate you.
Not while I’m standing, says the post. I’ll break your waves!

Looking down from above, the photographer sees form, shape, and colour. The stubbornness of not giving in. A post with a purpose, a duty to fulfill. A home for tiny creatures with tiny urges of their own, just as stubborn as the post and clinging to life with all its trials.

I wonder if I looked at other people from a different point of view… what would I see? The stolid patience of daily living, the refusal to be battered into submission, still clinging to life and hope- knowing storms come and storms go.

Would I care, or notice, or walk away? What kind of life is that?

Lord, if you looked down on my life, what would you see?
“What kind of life is that?” says the angel, looking askance.

“A life with a purpose, and someone I love” says the Word who spoke Life to the world.

I guess we do matter, after all.

Weeds of humble splendour- Look, See, Pray

A weed is a plant growing in the wrong place. What if we valued them for what they give instead of judging them by our desire?  Plants make this planet breathe- and some flourish in harsh places that would be desolate without them. At the edges of the salt marsh, tough plants make a margin of life. Their gaily waving flowers add charm to the landscape, provide food for insects and birds, and carry a promise of life now and for tomorrow.  A poem that just might be a prayer…  a weed that might be a hero.

weeds of humble splendour

Photo and text copyright Richard Starling, 2018.