The Delicate Dance” – Look, See, Pray

“The delicate dance.” Whirling, waving, singing in the breeze. Humble grasses of endless variety grow almost anywhere round the world.

A carpet to walk on, a banquet to creatures great and small. Background colours of restful greens and brown, and all too easy to overlook. We cut it down to make hay, we give our civilised selves a never-ceasing summer of work with scythe or lawnmower. We take grass for granted.

Grass helps protect from soil erosion. It makes a perfect surface for sports and picnics. It helps regulate the atmosphere we breathe.

Our Bibles are full of references to grass; in the beautiful 23rd Psalm of the Good Shepherd, we read “He causes me to lie down in pastures of green grass; he guides me beside quiet waters.”

My photograph today comes from a lakeside in the Zillertal of Austria. A good long walk up the valley led to a gorgeous turquoise-coloured lake. Kindly souls had put a seat with a view across the water to a snow-clad peak. Here, in the peace and quiet, we took our rest, our lunch, and our pictures.

Dancing delicately in the mountain air, these grass seed-heads rustled and swayed to an unheard tune.

Sunshine was followed by gentle showers, and a little later by a brief but dramatic thunderstorm. Our day was enriched by these curious climatic changes. Tomorrow would see the delicate dance of the grass as an encore. The rain makes it all live. Soil is shallow on the hard rocks, and sun and wind dry the grass quickly. It is the living water that gives the life.

A verse to ponder from Deuteronomy, extolling the virtue and value of the Words and Love of God. Be refreshed.

“My teaching, let it fall like a gentle rain, my words arrive like morning dew, like a sprinkling rain on new grass, like spring showers on the garden.” – Deuteronomy 32:2 (Message)

Delicate Dance Zillertal_1899

Secret and Sacred – Look, See, Pray

Deep down in the valley the trees hide their treasure. Down there a river flows, water brown from the peat washed off the moor. A track wanders between the trees with fallen leaves as a rustling carpet for dogs and kids to play in. Birds and secretive mammals watch carefully those who pass by: squirrels swear from their lofty seats and throw acorns to encourage departure.

If you go far enough, a graceful stone bridge arches the water so drovers and foresters can cross.

Go further, and find a stump or stone. Just sit in silence. No traffic sounds, no signal on mobiles, just the birds, the beasties and the breeze. Stay long enough, and a deeper stillness slips into your soul.

Far from distractions, the silence becomes comfortable. Only natural noises can be heard, forming a gentle background of peacefulness which allows the silence of the soul to bring rest.

The secret place becomes sacred. The signature of the Creator embellishes the quiet beauty with an invitation to inhabit the peace… and allow the Presence of Christ to open a chapter of awareness and grace in the Book of Life.

Words are important- but they are not the only speech. Silence is eloquent.MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

All it needs is a secret place where our heart can meet God’s faithful fathering. This is one such place. Have you found yours?

Here is a refuge, a sacred place of worship and reconciliation. Nearer, my God, to You.

Practice this sacred silence, and it becomes a peace within the soul, available any “when” and every “where.” God IS with us. We simply need to be aware- and engage.

Float like a butterfly? Look, See, Pray

“Useless flutterbys” in the words of a grouch. Dazzling flying jewels according to a fan.

Why do butterflies exist? Whatever the reason, I’m glad they bring their colourful aerial dances to the party. Something of a luxury item in an age of austerity.

I have an “inner butterfly” in my personality. I can be distracted, chase too many ideas at once, start more projects than I can finish…  Must be very frustrating for people who thrive on order and systems. Perhaps I should apologise!

On the other hand, wouldn’t the world be a sad place without butterflies?

Butterflies live on quite simple terms. They hatch from tiny eggs, tramp many jackbooted feet all over the plants they eat, enter a mysterious chrysalis- and emerge as delicate masters of flight, enjoying sunshine, and content to produce the next generation.

Our complicated technological/digital society worships productivity and efficiency. People or things that don’t contribute profitably are devalued and denied space. We even want to educate children without full access to art, music, nature-  maybe a few token lessons, but not the funding or staff to give the arts proper priority.

We are so busy with five-year plans, exams, and expecting schools to make up for the discipline and respect that (too often) isn’t given in home life. Three rootless generations struggle to find meaning.  We teach children to exist. Do we teach them to live?

It has become unfashionable to talk about BIG questions:  Who am I, where did I come from, why am I here, where am I going, what is a person truly worth…  We drain colour and vibrancy from life!  We substitute virtual reality through gadgets, games and apps. We entertain and amuse ourselves into stagnation and apathy. Bored and disillusioned.

O for the frivolity of a butterfly’s life!  An innocence with purpose.

Perhaps a short time of meditating on the purpose of our lives would be in order. Why do I spend my time, energy and resources as I do? What is really important? Have I yet discovered a God-given purpose that adds meaning and value to my days?

Ephesians 5:15 (NLT)
So be careful how you live. Don’t live like fools, but like those who are wise.

Eph 5 v15 083PaghamHarb1017ed

 

Unbeaten- Look, See, Pray

Gardening is in the blood of my family.  The appreciation of beauty was instilled early, together with the realisation that the gardener never has full control. Jobs take longer, pests invade, or the good old British weather trumps your hand.

In my mind’s eye, there is a rose bed out front. Problem is… the roses are out the back, in pots!

Clearing the overgrown shrubs and brambles takes longer than I hoped. Our clay soil also has a mind of its own- too boggy in winter, rock solid in summer.  Yet there is hope.

Last week the rain came lashing down. One of my “David Austin” roses, Boscobel, had just opened up before the apocalypse began.

Boscobel 002roses 0618Last year the rose looked gorgeous.

It has struggled this time round. Pot life doesn’t suit it well. Fewer flowers have bloomed.

This time the rain tried to dissolve the rose!

The petals became translucent, and the colour changed. Very strange to see.

wet_rose_010mygarden0915small

Gardeners are patient; and they don’t give up easily. I’m taking this semi-dissolved rose as a symbol of hope. The plant has survived. It has not been beaten.

Life lesson?  You are never beaten until you don’t get up anymore.

Life rarely turns out as we expect or “plan”… and life brings disappointments as well as triumphs. Quite a lot of the time living is just about keeping on going, doing the ordinary,  believing and trusting that God won’t let us go.

Prayer point:  Has there been a deluge on your rose recently? Something that has spoilt your dreams, rattled your cage, threatened your future security?

Make that the focus of your prayer. Trust the Lord to bring fresh growth, renew the damaged roses: and maybe even see something beautiful or insightful in the situation. My translucent rose has a magnificence of its own, even with its imperfection. Study the consequence of the storm, look for beauty in the moment. Rain affected the bloom- but the plant survives. Unbeaten.

Lord, whatever is going on right now, and however it looks in the middle of the deluge, may Your Spirit renew and keep me UNBEATEN.  The best IS yet to come. Amen.

 

 

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.

Joy surprise Rose edit 006gdn 110519

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!

0004May 2012 general-ed

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.

Light Life DSC_0042 crop

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.