A milk thistle has gone berserk in our herb garden. There is a particular seed head standing proud as a lion; it’s mane-like edges, fiercely barbed, are enclosing a pillow-full of silken seeds. One is on the brink of floating off from the rest to wherever the wind might blow.
Our community is heartbroken; a young man, loved by all who knew him, has run his race and crossed the line to win his prize and now we cannot see him anymore. Such a fragile thread separating this life and the hereafter. A beautiful young wife and a gorgeous little baby get left behind and it makes no sense. Why now, in the prime of his life, why now, when all is supposed to be calm and bright?
And yet, isn’t Christmas and the message of joy, hope, peace and salvation particularly necessary when it’s darkest? It’s not so profound for those doing grand, but it is the backbone and mainstay of those who are poor, needy, desperate and grief-stricken.
We seem to be living in anxious times. Anxiety and stress come up a lot. Many people seem to have legitimate reasons to be troubled. I heard a guy on the internet (I can’t find him again to reference him) giving some sound advice about how important it is to figure out what’s bothering us, to note down exactly why it’s a concern, and then to feel where the anxiety is and to breath it right out, intentionally exhaling all that is unwelcome in our bodies.
I sometimes feel dread right in the place where only a little baby should grow. If I word it like that, it is simple, it must get out. Incubating fear is out of the question: only that which is miraculous and created by God is allowed in such a sacred place. Perhaps you feel the burden in your chest. No palpitations and muscle spasms should occur where your lungs are expanding with fresh air and your heart is beating a rhythm true and comforting. Is it trying to sit in your belly where nourishment comes in? This pocket in your body is not a chasm to digest distress and ingested imaginings that will never promote well being.
I aspire to all things poetical not psychological, so don’t quote me on the science of all this, but the milk thistle with it’s abundance of seeds have gotten me thinking. We will experience trouble and sadness in this world, but we are not called to carry around turmoil like a fertile field holding seeds.
We are on our way to the Zambezi Valley as I write. After a long season of no rest, we are seeking solace together, far away from it all. I just noticed an unusual sign post with two words: No Overtaking. Just as I was wondering why, I noticed the road was narrow and suddenly we had a bridge to cross.
Sometimes instruction or wisdom comes to us clearly when we cannot see the reason for it. How often do we take warnings from the word of God as restrictions on our speed or progress when, in fact, they are to preserve our lives? Heed instruction. Take advice. Tread carefully.
“Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. Do everything in love.” I Corinthians 16 v 13 & 14
We, eventually, arrived after many pot-holey hours. We take many risks coming in here where the wild animals roam, the sun beats fierce and the mosquito and tsetse fly bite. There are also the equal and opposing risks that we will change gear out here and question the status quo, our imaginations will wake up and we will experience awe in a way we cannot so long as we keep pounding the hamster wheel. Our family will bond and get closer, our phones will not work and we will breathe deep. It feels to me that Psalm 23 is unfolding here for us. The Good Shepherd leads His sheep to places that are good for them. When they go with Him they want for nothing.
The Zambezi River is full of crocodiles and hippos and it’s not called Mighty for nothing. It’s very low at the moment and there are lots of areas where humans can, quite safely, swim (if a mother is praying and a father is standing guard too). Imagine my surprise when our littlest daughter lay on her back in the shallow, bejewelled waters of a sandbank and sighed, “Lying down in green pastures beside still waters.”
We all have concerns and, for many, it’s a season of falling tears. Let’s follow the little child who understands that she can be in the best, safest place right in the middle of what is known to contain danger. We could have stayed on the banks but we went into the very centre which turned out to actually be the shallows. I cannot comprehend it all even as I write it. All I know is that people crossed rivers and seas back then and it’s still happening nowadays.
Let’s run to the Little Child, born to save us.
The sun sinks and a million needles prickle the water’s surface, sewing their silvery threads of light into the end of another day.
Isaiah 9 v 2 “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.”
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