Eternal Echoes

justice...

let me feel justice

as your heartbeat

for the world,

that I might walk

step by step in time

with the rhythm

of eternity, drawing

from it the courage 

to stand up and be counted,

help me to understand that

true justice is not about 

revenge or retaliation

but an act of love and grace

that will not be held back,

teach me the deepest truth

that your justice sets me free

and names me worthy, and

even in my darkest days

you draw me into the light,

you fill me with your light,

I long to be your light,

your voice,

your love,

teach me to act justly,

to love mercy

to walk humbly with you...

 

Rhythms of grace

Image mine

Coming home...

Yesterday while preaching I encountered one of those glorious moments when the preacher finds themselves converted, I was preaching on the parable of the Prodigal Son. The theme for the service was home-coming, connecting with the origins of Mothering, or more correctly Refreshment Sunday. As I have said elsewhere, I refuse to join in with Hallmark holidays, and recognise that for many the theme of Mothers Day is particularly difficult, partly because we dress it up in the wrong clothes, very often we do this with this parable.

At the centre of this story is a Father with two sons, the sons are poles apart in personality and this is shown from the very beginning. The younger son is not content with his lot, he does not want to live within the boundaries and safety of the farm and longs for adventure, he does the unthinkable by going to his father and asking for his share, his inheritance, and despite the fact that this was tantamount to wishing his father dead, his father agrees and provides the young man with the money he craves. With a pocket full of cash the young man sets out on his adventure, and with his first step away from home his journey to his true home has begun. The reality of that hit me between the eyes yesterday as the similarities between the father and the younger son were revealed to me in a startling way.

The young man reached the far country and began living a life of reckless generosity, he gathered so called friends around him and partied hard! He indulged in prodigal living, to quote the dictionary;

having or giving something on a lavish scale.

"the dessert was prodigal with whipped cream"

synonyms:

generous, lavish, liberal, unstinting, unsparing, bountiful; copious, profuse;  abundant in, abounding in, rich;  literarybounteous "a composer who is prodigal with his talents

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The fathers heart was alive, if uncontrolled within him, he was living beyond his limits, and when those limits were exhausted his next steps on the journey home began. The Scripture is clear, he came to himself, and in the cold sober light of day he saw the emptiness of his lavish generosity for what it was. After a time of hunger and of feeding pigs he resolved to return home, he was prepared now to live as one of his fathers servants, a clear indication that he did not understand his father at all. 

I wonder how many times he rehearsed his speech on the way home; "Father I am not worthy..." I wonder how many times we tell ourselves the same thing, repeating the lie and then covering it up with a thin veneer of Sunday best to try to show that we are at least trying. As home came into sight over the horizon his world was about to be blown apart. We are told that on catching sight of the young man that the father cast all decorum to the wind and ran to greet him, brushing aside the young mans excuses and throwing his arms around him in welcome he called for a robe a ring and a party. The young man found himself embraced, restored and celebrated....

Maybe, if only he had understood, all that was needed in the first place was for him to ask his father for a party, but like many of us he had to know he was lost in order to be found! It is now the fathers turn for prodigal behaviour as the fatted calf is killed and a lavish banquet is prepared. The son has come home, and he knows at last the depth of love that his father has for him.

The older son now enters the scene, and reveals that while he has never left home, he has never been at home either, in deep compassion we hear the fathers heart, " you could have asked me for a party son, I would have loved to throw one for you..."

The younger son now began to understand, his father was not one to hold back, his generosity had both let him go to find himself, and welcomed him home, and in both of these acts a reckless, prodigal gift giving was displayed. From the safety of home generosity and celebration were safe, home was a place of life light and joy, that is something neither of the sons recognised in the beginning of the story.

In the younger son the gift giving nature of the father had always dwelt, it was the hunger created by this nature that drove him from home, but the hunger was never truly satisfied until he returned home to find himself encircled by love and rejoiced over. This truth hit me between the eyes and stirred my soul with force, so many of the things I have told myself and tried to diminish through the years have been unformed echoes of the fathers heart, it is in bringing them home, and offering them to God that they fulfil their potential.

The older sons journey is left unresolved, we are not told if he joined the party, we are simply left with the openness of the fathers invitation; " Everything I have is yours..."

The question we need to ask ourselves is;  "where I am in this story?"

Am I hungry for something more?

Am I lost?

Am I on my way home? 

Am I at home but far from home at the same time?

Am I living as a servant in my fathers house?

Do I know the father as a lavish gift giver, or have I somehow missed the point?

Wherever we find ourselves, if we only dare to own that with all of our hearts we are invited to turn, to come home to the fathers embrace, and to be celebrated by the one who longs to throw a party in our honour!

 

Intimacy with God...

I read those three

simple words,

maybe not the ones you

would instantly think of

but they mean they same,

and they made my heart sing,

simple words,

"intimacy with God... "

resounded in my soul

as the Spirit made her invitation,

come away with me,

come deeper,

come to the still place where

you can know

that you are known

and loved completely,

open your heart,

open your mind,

open your soul

and hear the eternal song

wooing you, drawing you to 

enter, the melody of grace

woven as silken ribbons,

and asking you to dance...

"intimacy with God"

the place where

I (AM) LOVE (s) YOU...

Photo; mine

I love praying on the beach

God with us...

Sometimes I question where God is, other times things happen that open my eyes to see that to name something a coincidence is to fail to see that we are not existing by pure chance but that God IS with us. This week has been one of those weeks.

It all began with prayers for a Comfort Zone Community member who has died recently, we thought that his funeral had taken place, but a well placed encounter with the Community Police team and we knew that this was not the case. Peter will now get a good send off in place of a paupers funeral. 

That conversation led to another one, and the Police Officer met in the cafe oposite  one church building discovered that the other church I serve is  situated right in the town centre and has a coffee shop open every day. The following day when the Officer needed somewhere to bring a young couple she brought them in to the coffee lounge. 

Coincidence, maybe, but there is more to the story, the young couple revealed that they were homeless and shared their story with us. I was in the coffee lounge but only because while I wanted to go home something told me I should stay, the Spirit at work; as events unfolded this became clearer and clearer...

Having heard the couples story  I placed a call to one of our volunteers who is amazing at finding flats for folk, she told me that she had called a landlord that morning on the off chance, but it was more than an off chance, she found his phone number on a crumpled piece of paper in the recycling box. He had a one bed room flat available. I took the young couple to see it...

The landlord was happy with them, and partly because of our good relationship with the landlords in Blackpool offered them the flat without a bond, and is happy to wait for housing benefit to come through! This afternoon I dropped them off at the flat to to sign the papers and to collect their key. They were delighted, they have been homeless for 3 months and were fleeing from violence in another town. They have an address at last, and life is beginning to look up...

Gos IS with us, and when we question that we need to remember that we see stories like this unfolding among us, and we need to hang onto a more expansive truth than we already know! 

Today we had reason to celebrate...

 

(Picture; 1; Beauty from brokenness. Picture 2: Our lovely community)

hatred...

I hate it,

but there it is,

weaving its

thoughts through

my heart,

mind, and soul, destroying

peace,

wreaking havoc

in my relationships

as it insists on

being heard, demands 

attention....

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I hate that it

turns on me,

turns me on myself

a distorting mirror

to the fabric of my being

spreading half truths

and untruths

abroad with

pernicious delight...

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I hate...

I catch myself

acknowledging the strength

of feeling, the energy

drawn from me

in the very act 

of hating,

and from the corner of my

eye I see a 

tear falling silently

as the crucified one

weeps for me/p>

and washes my hatred

with grace...

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...and I hear a

whisper...

"Father forgive them,

they know not

what they do..."

 

on emptiness...

I have nothing to give,

nothing to share,

I am nothing,

all is empty,

I survey the horizon

and see nothing,

my heart craves love,

my mind craves truth,

but nothing,

there is nothing, nothing of myself...

BUT there is you,

and when  I dare to lean on you,

dare to trust you,

dare to draw upon you

I become more,

I am freed,

I am me

hidden in Christ with God,

 a new creation,

transformed,

loved, 

known,

one,

filled,

confident,

me...

with God...

loneliness

I will never leave you

or forsake you, you say,

so why does my heart bleed and weep,

why do I fee alone,

why does this loneliness seep

into my bones

turning my soul

towards despair,

why do I struggle to

feel you?

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You cannot flee from

my presence, you say,

so where are you,

where are the signs

of your blessing and grace,

where is your healing touch,

why can't I hear your voice,

why don't I know you near?

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Come to me, you say,

where shall I come to?

Be still, you say,

be still and know,

be willing to let go, 

I will meet you,

I am with you, in the silence,

and the pain, 

even in the loneliness,

I AM

here...

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Lord let me know you here

because he lives...

Just recently I have been feeling really overwhelmed by the demands of ministry, and of life in general if I am honest, sometimes it feels that there isn't enough of me to go around, and while I am getting quite good at saying no to the demand that does not stop the demand coming. Add to this the fact that for various reasons I have been struggling with depression lately, the kind of depression that tells me I cannot do it, the kind that erodes my confidence and makes me want to hide under the duvet for the day, and , well you get the picture, it has felt like everything is just too much...

Too much that is until I remember that I am not responsible for everyone's woes and spiritual lives, yes I am a leader and a guide, but as the saying goes you can lead a horse to water but you cannot make him drink! Too much until those I minister to bless me in ways that challenge me to reassess my own life and remember to turn to and lean on the God who has called me.

That happened to me this evening at the Comfort Zone, a project that serves the homeless and needy community in Blackpool. The Comfort Zone is a community, although we technically have volunteers and clients there are many ways in which we support one another. Lilly was playing the piano, "Because he lives, I can face tomorrow" , a song of resurrection hope filled the church as people queued to collect food parcels and sleeping bags.

"Because he lives I CAN FACE TOMORROW", those words are still echoing in my head, added to by the very real gratefulness of so many for the little that we do. One man shared with me his hunger for God and his desire for Bible Study, another wanted to pray, not for things for himself but a prayer of thanksgiving, people were lighting candles, chatting and generally enjoying being together. In this community I found a place to stop, a place to be grateful and a place where I received as much as I gave, more in fact. Real faith is expressed by many in our community, real faith that relys upon God because there is nothing and nobody else to be relied upon, real faith that knows;

"3 “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

4 “You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

5 “You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought."

Matthew 5: 3-5 The Message

On my way out this evening I was stopped by another of our community who gave me a huge bear hug because I looked like I needed it, she was right, I did. I am still tired, and still overwhelmed, I am still struggling with depression, but this I know, I am not alone, and "because he lives I CAN face tomorrow.

 

 

 

(em)body...

flesh and blood,

skin and bone,

muscle and sinew,

knit together, a wonder,

intricate organs, 

minute cells, 

woven to the

mystery of me,

 connected as

mind, spirit, soul,

given substance,

unique one of a kind substance,

fearfully and wonderfully made...

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why then do I struggle with me?

even struggle against me ?

why do I fight 

even despise

who I am?

I am not a surface being,

I can revel in interconnected senses,

touch and smell, taste and hearing...

the wind in my hair,

the earth, 

beneath my feet,

the smell of a newborn,

I am fearfully and wonderfully made...

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if I want to embody love,

 I will have to start with myself, accept myself,

warts, wonder and all,

so I ask for grace to accept me,

even my body

with its joys and its pains,

to nurture and care for me,

to accept and nourish me,

funny how I called my body it

as I began...

I changed my thinking...

from now on it is me,

fearfully and wonderfully made...

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I want to embody love

I choose to begin,

making a change,

accepting that I am accepted,

fearfully and wonderfully made

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Read also:

I have a womans body...

 

mindful...

I want to savour life,

to taste the moment,

to be awake to its

blessings and pains,

to know myself,

to be aware of my reactions,

to be willing to hold them

as treasures or a dross,

to grow, to be

transformed, inwardly

transformed,

able to love and to give,

to heal and to hear,

to celebrate and even

to mourn...

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so I pray for grace,

for an inner well of

stillness,

a centering source

of truth,

a connection to the holy,

where the chatter and distractions

of my days

can be sifted and sorted

in loves kinder light...

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Image Centered 

S. Coleman