The Hope of Spring

A vivid yellow splash of colour under a graffiti-sprayed flyover caught my eyes recently as I was driving to Glasgow. I was driving to an Easter Sunday morning service in Glasgow thinking of the mess and chaos of the world within and without when I noticed the daffodils. There they were, sheltered under the bridge, amongst the traffic, the rubbish, the bottles and the art-work painted on the uprights.

Those daffodils were a timely reminder to me of what it means to be a Christian. We are here in this world, living on a fallen planet, surrounded by chaos and beauty and sin and suffering and righteousness.

Those daffodils made me think of that first resurrection Sunday. Scriptures speak of the need for Jesus to leave heaven, to be born on this earth and to live a perfect life, amidst the pain, the suffering, rejection, ridicule. He was a good man, a good teacher, a prophet, yes, but he was so much more. He was God in the flesh, showing a fallen and degraded mankind the way back to a relationship with a perfect and justly holy God. Jesus was willing to condescend so much that he became one of us - a man who would hunger, hurt, weep and suffer. A man who would heal, comfort, restore and laugh. A man who was willing to get his hands dirty in the mess and humanity of the world. A man who was put to death on a cross. Jesus, although Scriptures tell us he had no beauty that we should esteem him, was beautiful in how he lived that perfect life and how he spoke of the way back to God. He was like those daffodils surrounded by ugliness.

Three days after lying in the grave, Jesus rose from the dead, with the Father's approval that he had paid the penalty for sin, our sin. He had no sin of his own - he did not deserve to die or to suffer in any way and, yet, he chose to suffer in the worst way imaginable. Jesus gladly chose to receive our sin transferred to his unblemished account. And, what did we receive in return? His perfect, spotless righteousness. Righteousness acceptable to God transferred to our overdrawn and bankrupt account.

That is the hope of Easter, that is the power of the resurrection bursting into the darkness of this world! That is our only hope.

A Ben Ledi Buffeting

I almost bailed out of our planned hillwalk for Saturday. The weather forecast was predicting 65 mile per hour winds and heavy rain in the Scottish mountains. Two friends and I discussed the foulness of the forecast and our potential folly on Friday, one deciding to boycott the proceedings. Chris and I agreed to drive up north of Callander on Saturday morning and then reassess the conditions for tackling Ben Ledi. Ben Ledi, at 2883 feet, is just 117 feet shy of a Munro and I had not climbed it before.

Looking out the window on Saturday morning, I was still inwardly doubting our sanity and the drive north from Edinburgh was gusty, to say the least. We went in Chris’ car. Chris’ new Corolla experienced several strong windy side-swipes as we passed exposed areas of open land and one sudden torrential downpour where we the car was slowed to a crawl. Thankfully, everyone else on the motorway did the same as the visibility was minimal.

By the time we arrived at Callander, the inclement weather had mostly lifted and we decided to give it a go, with the escape clauses that we would get off the mountain if it became dangerous. Our backup plan of doing a distillery tour or sitting in a pub or cafe, waiting for the Calcutta Cup rugby match, still sounded appealing at this point. However, we weren’t to be disappointed. We were encouraged to see other walkers setting off from the car park near the Falls of Leny, so we set off in the assurance that we were not alone in our madness.

The steep walk from the carpark was rewarded with a short wooded stretch of path with rich, warm aromas of spruce and larch and the cascading sounds of rushing water. We soon left the woods for a steep, rocky path up the east side of Ben Ledi, curving south for a while beneath a steep ridge before the wind appeared. Until that point we had been nicely sheltered by the ridge, but when the path turned north-west towards the summit, Chris and I were met with what the forecast accurately described as 65 mile per hour winds in the mountains.

I had never experienced walking in such powerful winds and we were forcibly propelled from left to right as we slowly made our way up the muddy path. Chris was walking ahead of me and, at times, looked to be leaning into the wind at a 45° angle. At times it felt like G-forces were being unleashed on us as I felt my face contort to previously unimaginable shapes in the onslaught. There was no danger, thankfully, of us being blown to our deaths off precipitous cliffs, so we persevered towards the top. The only danger would have been a loss of pride at falling over without warning due to a sudden drop in the wind.

We were greeted with the sight of at least 2 deer running over the slopes very near the summit. It was the first time I had seen deer so high up a mountain and I laughed to think of them blowing up into the air by the gusts, legs flailing ungracefully. The deer were gone when we reached the summit but the views from the top were stunning. Looking west we saw Loch Katrine glistening in the sunlight and to the south-east we enjoyed vistas of and beyond Callander. The windfarm to the east was getting a good workout and it was mesmerising to watch the rotating blades in the distance.

We lingered near the top for a short time for lunch, finding shelter from the wind. One of the walkers we met in the carpark joined us and, as our bodies began to cool, Chris and I decided to make the descent back to the car and to the rugby awaiting us in a warm Callander pub.

The descent was much less windy than our ascent. We enjoyed a run down a steep, snowy bank and as the rain and hail began to lash, quickened our pace back to some dry clothes and a welcoming pint. With wind-burnt faces and tired legs, we capped off an invigorating day by witnessing Scotland beat England to lift the Calcutta Cup. Even the wind at Murrayfield wasn’t enough to dampen the spirits of many thousand exuberant Scots.

Giant killers...almost

I like underdogs, the small, less experienced teams who live the dream for a while and, at times, against all expectation and logic, upset and beat the more powerful team. It was thrilling to see part-timers Havant and Waterlooville get to the 4th round of the FA Cup and make Liverpool work for their money today. The H&V team are made up of a group of hard-working guys who are cabbies, bin-men, physios in their day jobs. They didn't beat the multi-million pound Liverpool men today but at 5-2, playing at Anfield, and twice going ahead, they did themselves proud. C'mon the underdogs...

Perkification

I think I’ve turned into a coffee snob. Sometime over the past year, I don’t quite remember when, I stopped drinking instant coffee. No, now the choice is either perked or filtered in the morning, with tea and water my drinks of choice in the office. No instant coffee for me, thank you very much.

I don’t know why this happened, apart from the vast difference in taste and pleasure received from a freshly brewed cup of coffee rather than downing a mug of the dried stuff. Perhaps it was the multiplication of cafes on almost every street corner or the intense aroma inhaled when in perkification. Maybe it’s the extra effort (albeit small) required to make it. I don’t know...but I love it!!!

There is a new non-chain cafe in Edinburgh slightly off the beaten track, which awakened my taste buds for the black medicine recently. If you’re ever walking down Broughton Street, check out Artisan Roast (you can click here even if you're not walking down Broughton Street - http://www.artisanroast.co.uk/). I’m not on commission there, in case you are wondering! Even if you’re not a coffee snob like me, it is still worth a visit for the rich aroma, the amazing, antique-looking huge grinder and the hot chocolate. And their slogan is For Beans That Dance - how cool is that?!

I know, it can be expensive but I think it is a small price to pay for one of life’s simple pleasures.

The Unseen

Why is it that, so often in life, we have a siege mentality - that when life gets messy and tough and uncomfortable we shrink back, start to fear and doubt and feel that we deserve better? That, somehow, we don't deserve things to turn out the way they do?

I was challenged reading II Corinthians 4 : 16 - 18 today:

...We do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen but what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Our focus in life determines how we live our lives. Are we, am I, focused on eternity, or on the here and now, the immediate? Am I bound and shackled by circumstances, captivated by events, however haphazard and tumultuous they seem to be? Or do I experience life to the full, with all its changes and surprises, and, yes, grieve and weep and sorrow at times, but not as those with no hope.

God is in the business of renewal. He is making all things new and His plans and purposes are eternal and unchanging and pure and life-giving. And He wants us to take these experiences to Him and to view them in the light of eternity and His victory through the person of Jesus. That doesn't mean we will, necessarily, understand the circumstances. Often, we won't. But, He will give the strength and peace that surpasses understanding and a purpose to live for Him in this messy world, giving hope and light to others, while trusting a God who is good and sovereign...all the time.

Oh, how I want that to be true of me...

Life Means So Much - Chris Rice

Chris Rice sings it so much better with his song "Life Means So Much"

Every day is a journal page
Every man holds a quill and ink
And there's plenty of room for writing in
All we do is believe and think
So will you compose a curse
Or will today bring the blessing
Fill the page with rhyming verse
Or some random sketching

Teach us to count the days
Teach us to make the days count
Lead us in better ways
That somehow our souls forgot
Life means so much
Life means so much
Life means so much

Every day is a bank account
And time is our currency
So nobody's rich, nobody's poor
We get 24 hours each
So how are you gonna spend
Will you invest, or squander
Try to get ahead
Or help someone who's under

Teach us to count the days
Teach us to make the days count
Lead us in better ways
That somehow our souls forgot
Life means so much
Life means so much
Life means so much

Has anybody ever lived who knew the value of a life
And don't you think giving is all
What proves the worth of yours and mine

Teach us to count the days
Teach us to make the days count
Lead us in better ways
That somehow our souls forgot
Life means so much

Every day is a gift you've been given
Make the most of the time every minute you're living

Check out http://www.chrisrice.com/ and http://www.rocketownrecords.com/

What is your life?

Life is so transitory. It doesn’t always feel like it. At times we feel that we are invincible and the eternal hardly crosses our minds. Day to day passes and the here and now seems so pressing, so immediate, so important.

Death can change that perspective, especially when it is close loved ones who depart this life. A grandmother and an aunt recently both suddenly passed away, unexpectedly. I say unexpectedly because, despite old age and illness, death still comes without warning. I lived 2000 miles away from these relatives but despite the distance there are still plenty of precious memories. Both my grandmother and aunt had strong, real faith in Jesus. Both set godly examples of what it means to be a Christian, trusting him through the journey of life, in the good times and the bad times. My grandmother lived a life of prayer for her family spread out over the USA and farther afield around the world. My aunt had pressing physical difficulties throughout her whole life and yet she exhibited a simple, childlike trust in Jesus that was an example of what Jesus said a Christian should be.

In my recent travels to these 2 funerals and a cousin’s joyous wedding, I was struck by the changing nature of the clouds I was viewing from numerous airplane windows. I was reminded that as James said, our lives are like those clouds, appearing for a little time and then vanishing away. What kind of legacy will I leave? Will it be one that leaves a lasting imprint of Jesus and eternity on the lives of others? Will it be one that appears like a vapour and quickly disappears, leaving no impact on others? Will it be a life that, like those clouds, though swirling and disappearing in an instant, gripped and moved me? That, like my grandmother and aunt would have prayed for and lived out in their lives for all to see, giving glory to Jesus, who is the same yesterday, today and forever?