Advent Star

“Where is the new-born King of the Jews? We saw his star as it rose, and we have come to worship him.” 

Matthew 2:2

The star hangs in silent suspension in the clear night sky. So far away and yet so bright, so beautiful, piercing the darkness of space. It wheels its course in a soundless orbit, set in motion long ago by the One who generously spangles the black depths of the universe with an abundance of starry glitter. Earth is nightly invested with a regal crown of breath-taking coruscated beauty and yet how often we miss this nocturnal ceremony

Advent

A determined seven year old lifted the three red wooden ornaments out of a drawer and declared that these would take their place on the mantelpiece despite the fact that it was still only mid-November. Perfectly aware of the general household rule that all things Christmas do not make an appearance until the month of December, he announced this with a fair amount of rebelliousness and attitude, no doubt expecting an argument. I hesitated only briefly before allowing him victory. The garish and gaudy colours of commercial Christmas have been filling our peripheral vision since October, reminding us in the usual not so subtle way, that the end of year season is just around the corner and after all, it takes very little to stoke the fires of festive excitement in our little people.

So there the wooden figures sit, waiting to be joined by cards and candles, a look of stoic resignation on their painted faces. Three wise men bearing gifts yet all dressed as Santa in red, with white fur trim and long white beards. One holds a wrapped present with a bow, one a star and one a Christmas tree. A strange and curious mixture of traditional fable and Bible story. It occurred to me that these funny wooden Christmas mantel decorations are quite emblematic of what we see around us. Myth and truth intertwined, all the elements of what Christmas is to us mixed together in an incongruous collection.

Sometimes it almost seems as if we pull up outside the stable in Bethlehem having caught a ride on a sleigh. As we raced along we didn’t notice the guiding star fall out of the sky and land atop an elegant spruce tree, covered with tinsel and twinkling fairy lights. We weren’t paying any attention, being preoccupied by our to-do and to-get lists but somehow we still arrive at a nativity scene albeit one where reindeer feed on hay alongside the donkeys and cattle.

As John Betjeman says in his poem, ‘Advent 1955’,

‘Some ways indeed are very odd

By which we hail the birth of God.'

In through the doorway of the stable we duck, bringing the whole fused jumble in with us. As we stand in the stable, we might suddenly remember where we are, feel guilty, mumble sorry and then try to shove all the unchristian stuff back out the door as if we can successfully segregate the godly from the worldly but before we set out on a self-righteous campaign to purge Christmas of all those ‘odd ways’ and put the three wise Santa’s back in the drawer, are we ourselves really much different? Maybe those ornaments are not just symbolic of the world around us but of our own inner worlds too. Each of us a more intricate, complicated blend of reality and fantasy, truth and falsehood.

In the stable, we become aware of our unworthiness for here lies God himself. Religion may tell us to leave all our messy, confused, mixed up stuff in the porch but belief walks in with it all and does what seems like the least appropriate thing to do – hands it over to a new born baby boy. The stable is the place where eternity and time touch, the place where divinity and humanity are fused. This is a place full of apparent contradiction that doesn’t make sense unless seen through the lens of faith. Immanuel, God with us, holiness living in the midst of sin. We ask the same question as Mary did, how can this be? The answer? Love.

“This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life. God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. He came to help, to put the world right again. Anyone who trusts in him is acquitted; anyone who refuses to trust him has long since been under the death sentence without knowing it. And why? Because of that person’s failure to believe in the one-of-a-kind Son of God when introduced to him.”

John 3:16 The Message

And so we behold the One in the manger. Come, let us adore him. Christ the Lord.

Thanksgiving Table

Shauna Niequist writes at the beginning of her book ‘Bread and Wine’,

‘I hope that when you put this book down, you’ll gather the people you love around your table to eat and drink, to tell stories, to be heard and fed and nourished on every level.’

It’s a book about friendship and food. It’s full of personal stories and recipes. It’s all about the importance of gathering around the table. The table is a place where the ordinary and the every-day can meet with the sacred and the divine. Sometimes, we gather around it specifically for communion and sometimes we gather around the table for turkey and ham but God is always present and always working amongst us.

It can be hard to come to the table sometimes. As Shauna writes, ‘we come with a need, with fragility, with an admission of our humanity…..The table is the place where the doing stops, the trying stops, the masks are removed, and we allow ourselves to be nourished, like children. We allow someone else to meet our need.’

The women of our church gathered for Thanksgiving dinner recently. We ate, we drank, stories were told and heard and we were nourished. This is our collective prayer of thanksgiving written that evening, based on Psalm 136.

Come to the table. Give thanks.

Psalm136

"Give thanks to the Lord for he is good

His love endures for ever

Give thanks to the Lord of lords

His love endures for ever

Give thanks to lord for he is merciful

His love endures for ever

Give thanks to The Lord for the strength he gives each day

His love endures for ever

Give thanks to The Lord for his outstretched arm

His love endures for ever

Give thanks to The Lord for allowing us to come to church

His love endures for ever

Give thanks to The Lord for the friends he gives us who pray for us when we are anxious

His love endures for ever

Give thanks to The Lord for his rod and staff which comfort us

His love endures for ever

Give thanks to The Lord for continual forgiveness

His love endures for ever

Give thanks to The Lord for he is king

His love endures for ever

Give thanks to The Lord for his provision every day

His love endures for ever

Give thanks to The Lord for he is faithful

His love endures for ever

Give thanks to The Lord for being nearby in this amazing world that he has made

His love endures for ever

Give thanks to The Lord for his unconditional love

His love endures for ever

Give thanks to The Lord for our church family

His love endures for ever.”

Ecclesiastes 3

The Voice is a new Bible translation that I've come across and the publisher's website has a few resources that seem to be worth looking at. I noticed this video and as there have been a couple of Ecclesiastes verses in one or two blog posts, I thought I'd share it. 

Speak the Word

'But God put this Word into the mouths of human beings so that it may be passed on to others. When people are deeply affected by the Word, they tell it to other people. God has willed that we should seek and find God's living Word in the testimony of other Christians, in the mouths of human beings, Therefore, Christians need other Christians who speak God's Word to them'

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together

I recently heard two women tell their stories. Two very different women, two very different stories, but both sharing their experience of having been deeply affected by the Word.

Maud Kells, a Northern Irish missionary of many years in the Congo, left us astounded and agape with incredulity as she stood clothed in the same, previously blood drenched dress she wore the night she was shot by a man in camouflage clothes and a mask. A humble woman of faith and tremendous courage, of prodigious practicality and with seemingly boundless stores of energy. Even having been through such a terrifying ordeal, Maud is confident that Jesus is her Good Shepherd.

Nancy Guthrie, a well published American author and speaker, broke everyone’s hearts with her story of loss, after the death of two children both born with a rare genetic disorder, while at the same time filling us with admiration at her strength and courage in being able to share what she has experienced of God throughout her suffering. Even while experiencing such profound grief, Nancy stands confidently under the sovereignty of God in submission and humility just as Job did.

Inspiring, challenging and encouraging stories. Their experiences have led them into the deep places of the soul where the Word embeds itself in the darkness and then reaches back out of them into the light towards others. These women have been deeply affected and so testify. We need them to tell us how there is hope and joy in the midst of deep-seated pain and fear. We are grateful to them and thankful for them.

We each have our story to tell. The trouble is though, perhaps we feel our story isn’t worth the retelling. We may say, ‘I’m no missionary’ or ‘I’m no public speaker’. We feel our story isn’t for a conference platform or a church pulpit but does that mean that God isn’t working in us and hasn’t put his Word into our mouths? No, I don’t believe it does and yet still we often shrink back and make comparisons with our sisters or brothers. I don’t think either Maud Kells or Nancy Guthrie would want anyone to walk away from hearing their story feeling inadequate or less in any way. What they’re doing is pointing us in the direction of God and when we also experience him in the unique context of our own lives, we’re all on the platform so to speak. Divine words in the mouths of ordinary human beings. Whether addressing hundreds of people, or having a conversation with just one person, we testify that God is good and God is love. No two stories are exactly the same and having been affected by the Word then surely we can all act on the words of Paul in Colossians 3:16,  

'Teach and counsel each other with all the wisdom he gives.'

If, as Bonhoeffer says, God wills us to seek and find his Word in the mouths of other Christians then let’s listen and let’s speak to each other. We need to hear each other’s stories. If we believe God is at work in our daily life then we need the stories of every day, ordinary living as well as the huge life changing events.

Life together is about service. We serve as voices. Loving voices encouraging, praying, giving as well as receiving, not our own words but God’s Living Word.

‘Here are some valuable clues about spiritually productive friendships. Encouragement, prayer and the ability both to give and receive enable us to serve one another effectively.’                                                                     (source unknown)

Cast Away and Gather

A time to cast away stones and a time to gather stones together

Ecclesiastes 3:5

(RSV)

I spent some time in Seattle on holiday once and as I was wandering around Pike Place market, I came across a craft stall that was selling etched stones. A table top storm beach of pebbles and words. Maybe because I was literally far from home, my subconscious led me to buy one with the word HOME engraved on the smooth, grey surface. Pocket sized but still not a sensible thing to buy on holiday. The ‘home stone’ travelled to Vancouver and across the Rocky Mountains with me before making its own small weighty contribution to excess baggage on the homeward journey.

Some years later, I came across more word pebbles in a local gift shop and this time, I bought one with the word JOY written on it. Again I didn’t have a special reason for choosing it. Perhaps I was feeling particularly joyful that day. It was the word I found most evocative and it joined the first stone on the hearth. There these two etched stones sit beside another stone, pocketed while walking on Murlough beach. This third stone I did choose deliberately. It was bright white and it was an immediate reminder of Revelation 2:17. I stencilled the Bible reference on the white stone roughly in black marker myself.

‘and I will give him a white stone, with a new name written on the stone which no one knows except him who receives it.’

A George MacDonald sermon entitled ‘The New Name’ sparked my imagination and opened up this verse in a lasting and meaningful way.

‘In brief, the giving of the white stone with the new name is the communication of what God thinks about the man to the man.’

‘his own idea of the man, that being whom he had thought when he began to make the child, and whom he kept in his thought through the long process of creation that went to realise the idea. To tell the name is to seal the success – to say, “In thee also I am well pleased.”

To one day stand before God and receive our new name, to receive the full revelation of who we are as created by him is a phenomenal experience to look forward to and incorporates all three of these words.

Home,   Joy,  Revelation

Three words unintentionally brought together but a gathering that can be viewed as the representation of the solidity and weightiness of truth, the deep etching of God’s love in our lives and the immutability of the gospel. Words for these last days and also for future everlasting days. Now, we experience home, joy and revelation in part but one day in full.

In the process of His ongoing creation of me, I have stood on a beach with more stones in my hand. This time these stones represented things that were being cast away, things that I had held onto for far too long and needed to be thrown irretrievably into the depths of the sea. These dense weights within us exert a gravitational force that constantly pulls us inward. It is only the stronger, more powerful pull of Jesus that enables us to be free of those inward forces.

Two friends, who I suspect were somewhat bemused but to whom I am eternally grateful, read and prayed with me before I cast those stones as far as I could into the water. An unorthodox but cathartic experience which I can recommend.

Now almost one year later, I find myself gathering and collecting. Gathering more words. Words that have come across my path in the course of time from authors old and new. From a castaway beach experience to a new gathering.

These are the tidal like rhythms of Christian faith and life. Gathering, casting away, gathering and casting away each in their own God appointed time. I don’t know what the writer of Ecclesiastes had in mind when he wrote that particular line but it’s surprisingly literal in meaning for me as I learn to cast off heavy weights and hold onto solid truths.

‘Make our being grow into thy likeness.
If through the ages of strife and ages of growth, yet let us at last see thy face, and receive the white stone from thy hand.
That thus we may grow, give us day by day our daily bread.
Fill us with the words that proceed out of thy mouth.
Help us to lay up treasures in heaven,
where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt.’
G MacDonald

Join in!

Belfast Community Gospel Choir - to quote the lyrics, Oh What A Night! On the recommendation of my sister I bought a ticket but was unprepared for how much I would enjoy myself.

The charisma of a flamboyant choir mistress bursting with enthusiasm was a catalyst, igniting the entire room with an infectious spirit of laughter, song and joy. The choir, full of colour and movement, exuded a relaxed yet powerful confidence and energy. The room resounded with gospel and soul music that grabbed you by the hand, yanked you out of your chair and onto your feet. There were some in the audience who found themselves quite literally yanked out of their seat by the fearless choir director much to our amusement.

I smiled, sang, laughed, clapped and swayed until my face hurt, until my throat croaked, until my hands stung.

At one point in the evening, my sister who had been sitting, or rather dancing beside me was elsewhere. I took a moment to sit back, catch my breath, relax and watch proceedings from the back row. Suddenly I felt a nudge on my arm, causing me to glance to my right. Across my sister’s empty seat, an elderly gentleman, who if he was a day less than eighty I’d be very surprised, was gesturing to me. Come on, he was saying, clap! Join in! I laughed out loud in surprise. Here was this old man, with a grin on his face, enjoying himself immensely as he clapped and jigged to the music, telling me to get on my feet and party! Regardless of the fact that he had needed to lean on someone’s arm to get to his seat in the first place, there he was twice my age and telling me not to stop. Keep dancing! Clap with me!

Just down the aisle a little girl about five years old, ran up and down, clapping out of time and unselfconsciously did her own little dance. There was I between the two thinking how appropriate it was that we were in a church. The very old, the very young and everyone in between, wearing a ‘mantle of praise’ (Isaiah 61:3). All together under one roof breathing an atmosphere that energised your whole being, made you feel alive, made you at least begin to set aside inhibition and reserve to express joy.

Is church not the best place to have someone beside you to give you a nudge and say, ‘Do you feel it?’ A place where the atmosphere of the Holy Spirit fills you up to overflowing so that you can’t help but encourage others to sing with you. It doesn’t even matter that you don’t know one another’s name and that there may be decades between your birthdays. Who is next to you? Whose arm can you nudge? Are we not anointed by the Lord as Isaiah was to bring gladness, joy and praise to those around us?

The Spirit of the Lord is upon us!       

                                             

Coincidence or Connection?

I had another 'NO WAY!!' moment. An 'I do not believe that has just happened!' moment. A coincidence that stops you in your tracks and at the moment of realisation, you laugh in disbelief.

I bought a book. Not an unusual occurrence. I would buy lots more books if I could but I have to restrain myself. I am a shameless raider of shelves. I love nothing more than poking about in a good second hand book shop, rummaging through piles and rows, hunting for copies of old editions. Among those on my list of items to search for is the Puffin Classic, The Princess and The Goblin by George MacDonald. I had already read it on my Kindle and I'm still waiting to find a hard copy but whilst browsing the classic fiction section in my favourite fusty Belfast book shop, I found several different copies of its sequel, The Princess and Curdie. I laid the books out to have a good look and compare the covers, choosing the one that was least marked and most intact. Happy with my choice (especially since the cover is illustrated by Pauline Baynes), I paid £2 and took it home where it sat on a shelf for several months until one day, I decided to pack it as holiday reading. Before tucking it into my bag, I opened it up at the fly leaf in order to print my name in the corner as is my habit and for the first time, noticed the name of a previous owner inscribed at the top of the page. It took a second for the name to register. There in neat, loopy schoolgirl handwriting was the maiden name of my friend J! Of course, there may well be many people of that same name but if I had bought this book eight years ago, the name would have meant nothing to me as we hadn't met and of all the thousands of books in the entire shop, I unknowingly chose one that might once have belonged to someone I now see all the time. Such a strange feeling! As if the past was connecting with the present.

Or there's the time that a friend shared the story of a very personal written gift that she had made and printed for another mutual friend. A week later I was sitting in that same mutual friend's house and discovered that on a bookshelf right at my elbow was the very gift that I had heard the story of a week previously. I recognised the printed image on the cover and exclaimed in surprise, explaining to my friend that I knew what it was and who it was from. She generously told me to pick it up and read the touching words written inside. I had no hesitation in doing so as I already knew what those words would be, having already been told of them by the author and I felt overcome by a sudden sense of deep connection with my sisters in Christ. The feeling of being knit together, part of a web of relationships and knowing myself to be truly blessed to count these women as good friends who were sharing with me their love for each other.

Or there's the time that I bought a New Living Translation of the New Testament for 75p in a Save the Children shop. A paperback copy with an extended index giving guidance and highlighting key verses on various aspects of the Christian life, much of which at the time, I barely glanced at. One year later however, I listened to a kids mission beach talk all about God keeping his promises and how he will keep his promise that I will have eternal life. No more than half an hour later, I read in my bargain Bible these words, 'for God loved J so much that he gave his one and only Son, so that if J believes in him she will not perish but have eternal life.' There in black and white that very promise printed personally for me which had gone unnoticed up until then. Of all the names that could have been chosen and printed it happened to be my name. An awesome coincidence that filled up the storehouses of my soul with joy and encouragement. I am connected for eternity to God through his Son and it felt to me that he had written it down and published a Bible just to tell me that! It had a great impact on me and the timing of that coincidence was suffused with meaning. Of course there are many other people who have the same Christian name as me. I wonder how many of them also have a copy of this particular Bible. 

There are other moments I could tell you about. Other stories of coincidence and connection. Each of them left me with a feeling that went beyond the immediate gasp of incredulity. I'm wondering what the significance of these moments might be. Many will smile wryly and wave dismissively, saying they don't mean anything at all and others will openly scorn but I imagine Jesus seeing what's about to happen on each occasion, grinning in anticipation and thinking, 'she is going to love this!', watching in delight as the moment unfolds. I thank God for every single one of these 'coincidences'. They make me laugh. They make me smile. It's as if little tiny tears or pinprick holes appear in a veil and the sparkling, shimmering rainbow colours of heaven glint and catch your eye, 'the glory of a mystic sunlight coming directly from another world''.¹  They stir something within me and draw my attention to something invisible. The hidden things of real life in Christ become more perceptible. We are beckoned towards a more profound and deeper reality. Come farther up and farther in, to a place where colours are truest, and the light is brightest. If we are to follow the rays through the chinks, they lead to the great Source of all life, in whom all things live and move and have their being. We are connected - to each other and to Jesus.

'Christ is all that matters, and he lives in all of us.'

(Colossians 3:11)

Afer all, this is only a shadow or copy of the real world. To me, these 'coincidences' are reminders that we should think about the things of heaven, not the things of earth (Colossians 3:2). They are reminders to be watchful, alert and ready for the ultimate moment of realisation when Christ will be revealed to the whole world and we will stand in awe as we see for the first time, the breath-taking grandeur of the extent of our connectedness through him and to him. We will cry like C S Lewis's unicorn in The Last Battle, "I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it til now....Come farther up, come farther in!"

---

1 Bernard L Manning, 'Hymns of Wesley and Wyatt:Five Papers.' 1932^↩

Blossom

It was a beautiful May morning and it was Thursday. For several months, Thursday mornings were special because I spent them with my friend M and on one particular morning the cherry tree outside her house was in full bloom. It's a mature tree that spreads its branches wide over the driveway, out over the lawn and gives the most magnificent display of nature in her late spring time glory. As I sat in the chair by the window looking out at the blossom I commented how lovely it was. M responded by saying that she was so pleased that I was there to see it. In another week's time, the flowers would be past their best and I would've missed it but we were able to spend the morning chatting by the window and appreciating the splendour of the cherry blossom together.

This is M all over. Her open heart loves to share beauty with those around her and I am privileged to be able to spend time in her company. She loves to delight in the beauty of God and to share that with others. There are moments of true joy in such friendship but as the blossom of the tree soon faded so do those moments and we are left with a cherished memory and an ache in our heart.  

God, the creator and source of all beauty is at work in each of us. He gives us eyes to see the natural beauty of the visible world and a heart to feel joy in the beauty of the invisible. Surely the most beautiful things of this life are those which cannot be held onto and kept. A stunning evening sunset is no more ours to keep than the day that passes with it into the west. It is God's to make, for his own purposes and for him to look upon and say it is good. Nor can we create the beauty of holiness within ourselves, just as we cannot force the new day to rise out of the eastern horizon.

The rainbow arcs across the sky and soon fades, profound wonder at the moment of birth is overtaken by the ordinary task of living, a moment of deep understanding and empathy between two people becomes a bookmark in the story of relationship. 

'All joy reminds. 

It is never a possession, always a desire

 for something longer ago or further away or still 'about to be'  

C.S Lewis, Surprised by Joy 

Following my time with M, after the spring blossom, Thursday mornings over the summer were spent in the company of another gentle sister in Christ. For a brief time there was beauty of an invisible nature. The beauty of honesty and truth, of affirmation and encouragement, of safety and acceptance. Yet the present becomes the past and we cannot remain in the moment however much we might wish to. Joy is bittersweet and transient but the ache of passing joy reminds us that we are on a 'path that leads to a beautiful life.' Psalm 16:11. The beauty of life is a gift to enjoy and to share that with others is also a gift but ultimately this present experience will always leave us with a sense of longing. A longing for the eternal life where beauty never fades. 

'All joy emphasizes our pilgrim status; 

always reminds, beckons, awakens desire. 

Our best havings are wantings' 

C.S Lewis, Letters of C.S Lewis 

for we are not yet in that 'perfectly beautiful holy place of Zion' Psalm 50:2

Meeting in Prayer

The last chapter of my friend's thesis is finally written and as she collapses in a heap, mentally and emotionally drained from years of writing toil, we her friends gather round and pat her on the back with a hearty well done. It is a group sigh of relief and we celebrate with pretty patisserie desserts, cocktails and the essential cup of well brewed tea. We have journeyed with our friend in her labour of words, bringing her to God for inspiration, free flowing thoughts, clarity and calmness of mind.

As I was reading a borrowed copy of Sheldon Vanaulken's 'A Severe Mercy', I found these words of C S Lewis with whom Vanaulken had corresponded,

 

'It is a sweet duty, praying for our friends. I always feel as if I had had a brief meeting with you when I do so: perhaps it is a meeting, and the best kind.'

I sent these words to my thesis writing friend during the intense final leg of her marathon and from then on many of our text messages to each other included the words, 'meeting you in prayer'. Vanaulken and Lewis weren't even on the same continent as they met in prayer and as my friend, barely post-thesis, prepared to move back to Canada with her family, we would soon find ourselves in the same situation. 

There are times when we grow tired and weary, overtaken by circumstances and holding our arms up in prayer is almost beyond us. Is there any way to be a better friend to one another than taking up the sweet duty of praying for each other?

In God's Kingdom miles don't matter. We meet in the throne room of God the Father, side by side, accompanied always by Jesus in whose name we pray. A meeting of the best kind indeed because we meet together with him, the one who we eagerly look forward to meeting face to face some day.

No Drips

A dismal wet summer makes it hard to plan things like family BBQ's in the park, yet plan we did. One big get-together at the end of the holidays to also cover a birthday celebration, requires a fair amount of diary coordination but we managed it. Everyone in the same place, at the same time, on the same day. All that was left was to hope for reasonably decent weather. 

"I'll get Hannah on the weather prayers," says my sister in law.

My little niece Hannah, who is only four, always prays about the weather. If she's feeling bored indoors on a wet day, she asks God to make the rain stop so as to be able to play outside. If her daddy is going out for a run, she prays for it to be dry long enough for him to be able to pound out ten miles on the roads. Hannah prays with absolute faith that God will turn off the rain when she asks him. She doesn't think he might do it, she knows he will. So Hannah and her little brother prayed for 'no drips on Sunday' while I started to think of contingency plans and alternative venues.

I didn't believe like Hannah. My faith was in the big blue umbrella and the wellies that would keep the drips off my head and the kids' feet dry. By lunchtime the day before the BBQ, I had no suitable Plan B.

What to do?

Hannah came to mind. It occurred to me that I could pray about the weather too. Instead of smiling patronisingly at the innocence of child like faith, I could join her in prayer.

So that's what I did. I laid our weekend plans out in front of God, asked him to bless our time together with dry weather and didn't think another thought about plans B-Z.

The rest of Saturday passed by largely sunlit with just one heavy shower. 

BBQ Sunday arrived.

Let me tell you this. Our picnic table had a bottle of suncream sitting on it! Not only did it not rain but the sun beamed hot and bright all afternoon. The kids played barefoot in the grass, T shirts and hats on. The grown ups sat in fold out chairs, sleeves rolled up, sunglasses on. We munched on burgers and chocolate cake, sang happy birthday, laughed at silly things and generally had a lovely time beside the big beautiful tree in the park.

It's turned into our spot. I look forward to meeting beside the tree again next summer and in the year before 'BBQ in the park 2016', I hope we all learn to follow the lead of little Hannah in prayer. To bring all the simple every day things of life to our Father, asking for his help and blessing with the pure, resolute belief of a child, knowing that he gives abundantly out of his boundless love, knowing all things are under his control, knowing that he hears the prayers of his little ones and answers. 

To flip 1 Timothy 4:12 on its head and turn it to prayer, let's ask that we will not look down on anyone because they are young. That we will be humble enough believers to follow their example in what they say, the way they live, in how they love and in the purity of their faith. 

Let's pray for God to dry up the drips of pride and unbelief and instead ask for the rain of Deuteronomy 32:2

'Let my teaching fall on you like rain;

let my speech settle like dew. 

Let my words fall like rain on tender grass,

like gentle showers on young plants.'

The Guide

Every now and then our boys look at old photos of us on our travels, intrigued that they're not in the picture, asking questions about where we were and what we did, almost disbelieving that their parents could once have enjoyed life in such a way without them being there - I guess all kids have trouble imagining their parents as just people who once didn't have kids.

The travel guides that we used to explore places like New Zealand and Canada, still sit on a bookshelf and although much of the information they contain is now probably obsolete, they are still a reminder of the adventures that we had a long time ago or so it feels. Studying the pages of those guides helped us make decisions about the routes we needed to take, the best sights to see, the places to stay and the dangers to avoid. These days it's all about Google maps and making sure your smart phone has full battery power at all times but pre-4G (prehistoric I know), the old fashioned printed travel guide was what kept us right. The travel journalists had gone ahead of us and lived the experience already.

As I write this, I'm on the other side of a hospital appointment which had filled me with dread and as I waited in anxious anticipation, I read the chapter in Lord of the Rings which tells the story of the company of the ring making their way through the Mines of Moria.

To the left of the great arch they found a stone door: it was half closed, but swung back easily to a gentle thrust. Beyond there seemed to lie a wide chamber cut in the rock.

`Steady! Steady! ' cried Gandalf as Merry and Pippin pushed forward, glad to find a place where they could rest with at least more feeling of shelter than in the open passage. `Steady! You do not know what is inside yet. I will go first.'

He went in cautiously, and the others filed behind. `There! ' he said, pointing with his staff to the middle of the floor. Before his feet they saw a large round hole like the mouth of a well. Broken and rusty chains lay at the edge and trailed down into the black pit. Fragments of stone lay near.

'One of you might have fallen in and still be wondering when you were going to strike the bottom,' said Aragorn to Merry. 'Let the guide go first while you have one.'

These words really struck me. The idea that something lies ahead of me which is dark and unknown but I have a guide. If Jesus goes ahead of me, he will see the dangers first, shine light on the hidden hazards that could easily trip me up and throw me into a black pit.

Anxiety and worry are old rusty chains which are always in the way, always a snare and I inevitably trip over them time and time again but on this occasion, these words made me stop and think. I imagined Jesus in a hospital. He walked through the door of a consulting room, he heard the doctors words and he experienced my appointment before I got there.

 Psalm 32:8

The Lord says, 'I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. 

I will advise you and watch over you.'

Whatever was to happen at that appointment and whatever the outcome was to be, Jesus already knew what it was and his best pathway for me led right through the middle of the consulting room. He had already gone ahead of me and this truth made a difference.

Deuteronomy 31:8

Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord will personally go ahead of you.

He will be with you; he will neither fail you or abandon you.

I was still nervous when the time came for me to sit in the waiting area. I still felt apprehensive but I also trusted my guide, knowing that he was with me. Future and present in his hands. He goes ahead of me and he is also with me.

My praying friends lifted me into his care and the answer I received that day was so much better than I had anticipated. I walked out of the hospital delighted with the conclusion of that particular episode and I give thanks for the blessing of good health but I also learnt to say the words of the Psalmist, 'I will bless the Lord who guides me' Psalm 16:7.

I hope and pray that I will continually learn how to trust my guide no matter what happens in life and no matter what the outcome is, good or bad. There are going to be days when I may struggle to say those words of blessing. I struggle now to understand how some pathways could possibly be the best ones but on I walk and God works as I put one foot in front of the other.

As for those guide books sitting on the shelf, they may be outdated and they could go in a recycle bin but I prefer to leave them where they are - reminders not only of good times had but of best pathways ahead.

'Send forth your light and your truth, let them guide me;

let them bring me to your holy mountain,

to the place where you dwell.

Then will I go to the altar of God,

to God, my joy and my delight.'

Psalm 43:3

(NLT)