Saturday, 13 October 2018

It's never boring ..

I confess that National Poetry Day passed this particular poet by this year, but my home town currently has a brand new post box in situ inscribed with quotations from the poetry of the Poet Laureate.  And very smart it is too!  I got quite excited when I saw it, especially as one of the quotes is about prayer.
Apologies for going quiet on you all. There have been reasons. I'm thrilled to share with you that I'm in conversation with Kevin Mayhew about publishing a book on the psalms - the one that I never intended to write but which curiously seemed to write itself during this year's time of convalescence - and that has 150 poems, prayers and reflections in it.  So for the last few weeks I've been beavering away trying to get all the text publication-ready.

I also have a short article on Silence in the latest issue of Woman Alive.  If you pick up a copy from your local Christian bookshop there's an opportunity in the magazine to win one of my CDs.  Alternatively you could buy one from this website and keep me in coffee for a few days - it would make a great gift for someone. And speaking of CDs. ...  I will be in the studio recording the next one in the series in November.

So it looks like there will be at least a couple of exciting new releases next year  ...   along with whatever else might emerge after my next bout of surgery.  I'm curious to know what God's got up his sleeve for my next period of convalescence.  It's never boring, is it, this journey with Jesus?

Thank you for your continuing interest in my ministry and your prayers for me.  xx


Sunday, 16 September 2018

Let Your God Love You

Warmth flooded through me, drenched my body, held me in the moment.  From the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, it poured itself into me. It was a powerful, visceral, physical sensation.  It was a cleansing, it was a healing; it was Love.  
Sitting before the cross, the beautiful cross which was shaped out of brokenness, I knew; I knew that the shattered fragments of my own wounds were falling away.  I knew what the woman with bleeding experienced as she touched the hem of His cloak. (Mark 6.25-29). And it was gift; pure, unearned, radical gift.
That was a month ago.  And here I was last weekend, listening to Edwina Gateley speaking about the transformative power of love; speaking of the importance of knowing, truly knowing, that we are deeply loved by God, whoever we are, whatever we've done or not done, whatever wounds life has inflicted on us.  We are loved; loved beyond measure.  And sharing this love courageously was the way to change the world. These were no empty words, but the words of a woman whose sacrificial ministry to the homeless and the prostitutes in Chicago has transformed lives; has literally raised them from the gutter.  

My experience before the pottery cross came midway through a silent retreat, a whole week with the absence of words, absence of conversation, absence of technological noise and stimulus.  And Edwina's life changing ministry was forged and birthed in the silent desert times of her life. Considerably longer and deeper than my experience, three months alone in the Sahara desert and later nine months of prayer and silence in the woods of Illinois had led her to the street people.  It had given her the courage to step beyond her comfort zone and just love, simply love, those who didn't know the meaning of the word.

'Why?', my friend had asked.  'Why do you go away to be silent?  Can't you do that at home?'   No.  No, you can't.  Not in the same way.  There's something significant about intentionally stepping aside from life in order to simply 'be', to simply be with God; to open yourself to hear His voice.  Few of us can do this for nine months in a hermitage in the woods, but all of us can carve out some time for silence, however brief. 

Silence.  Love.  Transformation.  The essence of God.  

It's rarely an easy journey, but it can shape you in life-changing ways.

In the words of Edwina's poem, try taking the time to 'Let your God love you'.


Sunday, 17 June 2018

God of surprises

Don't you just love it when God brings into your path just exactly the right thing that you didn't even know you needed?  As a long recovery from major surgery stretched out ahead of me, I had no idea what was about to unfold.  I certainly had no idea that God was about to write another book through me.
In the early days of my convalescence, when I began to reflect and write with a psalm a day, I had no thoughts of where it might lead. And now, as psalm 150 creeps towards me, I have a strange sense of completion; as if I'm close to finishing a task that I didn't even know I needed to do.  I have been hugely challenged but also deeply blessed by wrestling with the psalms and there's a kind of wistful fondness that this season is nearing its end.  It feels not unlike when I looked on my sons and recognised that my task was done: they were about to find their own way in the world and my calling had simply been to birth them and nurture them.  That's how it feels.  But, as any author will tell you, the hard work of getting this writing published now lies before me.  I'd appreciate your prayers through the process!  If it's what God wants, it will happen!
On the health front, my recovery is progressing well and it's now time to consider when to have the second operation.  I am keeping on keeping on! Thank you for your prayers throughout this time.

Saturday, 3 February 2018

Every Step a Prayer

Carrie Newcomer has a song entitled, "A Shovel is a Prayer".  In writing about it she says -
“I believe that prayer is very personal and intimate. It happens in small, private moments, in songs and whispers, in humor, grace and the conversations that can only be had at the quiet end of the table."
The song contains some beautiful lyrics, among them:  "a baby is a prayer / when it's finally asleep / a whispered, 'Amen' / at the end of the day"  and  "a friend is a prayer / when they bring over soup".

Recovering, as I am, from a knee replacement operation just over two weeks ago, I have thought of those words often.  In the early days, post-operatively, I felt quite unable to pray in my usual ways and yet was deeply aware that, in a very real sense, every step and every moment was a prayer; every visitor and every card a prayer too.  Feeling powerfully upheld by the prayers of others, I also came to realise how important it is to have people 'standing in the gap' prayerfully for us at particular times in our lives.  My thanks go out to all those who have prayed me through this time and are continuing to do so: you are making such a difference!
As I settle now into the rhythms of my convalescence I am beginning to pray my way through the psalms each morning, inspired by Ian Stackhouse's book, "Praying Psalms".  Reflecting and writing with each psalm, I'm  finding it a powerful way to start the day.  And who knows? ... this might become another book  ...  every step, every stroke of the pen, every tap of the keyboard ... a prayer.

What might be an unexpected prayer for you today?