Take 5

  Late November, I begin looking for the Pohutukawa flowers signaling the beginning of summer and more importantly heralding Christmas.   I watch our Pohutukawa tree daily, checking for the first flowers to burst out.   This year the trees are late.   The potential was there but still, like our lockdown, not yet.   It’s been a long season of waiting.   I noticed the first flowers whilst at Auckland hospital as I looked out at the majestic trees that surround it. There they were, the first glimpses of red amongst the deep green leaves.   Signs of hope, signs of a new season, signs of Christmas.   The lead up to Christmas is called “Advent” or waiting.   Waiting for the 'light of the world', waiting for hope, joy, and grace.   Waiting for Jesus, the Prince of Peace, to come. The Pohutukawa flowers and Christmas are entwined in my mind. I remembered two Christmas seasons spent at Auckland Hospital and here I was for a third time.   L...

  What do you do when life threatens to overwhelm you? In Mark 3:4-17 we find Jesus being pressed and pushed by the crowd that followed him everywhere, even at the beach where he had gone for some “alone time”, the crowd follows. He instructs his disciples to prepare a “little boat” for him to be in and prevent the crowd overwhelming him in their need.   The devotional asked, “ Do you have a little boat ?” [1]   When life presses in and the multitude voices of need, demand, urgency, even the voices in our head, press in, do you have a place of solitude to go to?   Do you know how to find a quiet place to meet with God? During lockdown number five I have returned to a spiritual discipline or practice I learned many years ago – the art of being with God in silence and solitude.   By intentionally creating space in my day to sit in silence, in quiet alone with God allows the multitude of internal thoughts, voices, inner demands and strivings to settle.   ...

 Like many in this lockdown, I have been watching the Paralympics. Marvelling at how men and women have overcome limitations and difficulties to bring the same disciplines, co-ordination, and competitiveness to the sports arena.  It has been compelling viewing.  The image that most connected with me, however, is that of the runners with sight impairment competing with their guides. What impressed me is how the guides disciplined themselves to assist and run at the same pace as those they are looking after. They are truly their eyes but they do it in such away as their athlete gets the glory. They restrain their pace to match theirs – step by step and they hang back just as the runner crosses the line.  They train as hard, they endure as much, they no doubt experience the same nerves and maybe have another dimension of nervousness on them – they don’t want to stuff up and let their runner down!  What a great illustration of humility and servanthood.  I love ...

  They were all neatly stacked and in order, words piled up on words. There was LOVE and PEACE ; HOPE was in its place. CAKE and DRINK side by side, but where was JOY ? Sneaky word, it had jumped away when I wasn't looking.   It was there a minute ago, but now?   Where did JOY go? Under the carpet? Behind the door? I hunted high and low for JOY .   Was it under the bed or even in the bed? Had it run out the door? Was it sulking in the fridge or sliding down the drain? Where on earth was that slippery, little word called JOY ? One minute it jumps up and dances on the window ledge and just as you go to grab it, JOY jumps out the window and runs under a bush.   I called it by name but nothing, not a murmur, a hint, or a sound. Had it taken to wearing a mask and gone into lockdown hiding under the blanket on the couch?   “Listen to me JOY, ” I spoke out aloud, “even with your mask on, jump out and surprise me!   We could ride ou...

 Every four years I indulge in my sports fest, on the couch, watching the Olympic games.   It’s compelling viewing as the human drama unfolds – the agony and joy, the culmination of years of hard work, grit, determination, tears and dreams.   I love the underdog stories, the triumph and even the despair when the dream crumbles. No wonder the Olympics are such a powerful metaphor. Coinciding with this couch-spectator feast, to my amazement, delight and then ouch, was the devotional in Lectio 365 by Izwe Nkosi I was reading.   I quote; Romans 15:30-33   I urge you, brothers and sisters, by our Lord Jesus Christ and by the love of the Spirit, to join me in my struggle by praying to God for me.   Pray that I may be kept safe from the unbelievers in Judea and that the contribution I take to Jerusalem may be favourably received by the Lord’s people there,   so that I may come to you with joy, by God’s will, and in your company...

  It’s such a familiar passage that I skimmed over it in my daily reading, but something made me stop and read it again – the story of the disciples being pounded by wind and waves in the boat. They were panicking when they shook Jesus awake. They were dumbstruck when they watched Jesus command the wind and the waves to cease.   “Peace be still,” he said.   No one had ever done that before. They are awed by this man, Jesus. They had no idea who was in their boat.   So caught up with the process of sailing across the lake, of managing the storm that had blown up they were unaware that the Lord of all Creation was in their boat. This is the incredible irony of this story.   The disciples are terrified in the storm and yet Jesus the prince of peace is with them. They have no idea. I cannot blame the disciples for I too so often fail to recognise, acknowledge or understand that Jesus is in my boat.   The same Jesus who said he would never leave us or forsak...

  So I ordered a Suzuki Swift rental car, to be picked up at the airport on arrival. It was late, dark and raining when I arrived. “We don’t have a Swift for you,” they said, “we have upsized your vehicle at no extra cost.”   Fine, I thought, imagining a sedan with a little more grunt.   Not so.   In the dark, as the rain fell gently and I pushed the key to see which car would burst into life, a LARGE Holden Accordia lit up.   I wasn’t upsized, I was up, up, UP-sized!!!   Gigantic upsized!   I had never driven anything so big.   I was way out of my comfort zone, so far in fact I didn’t even know how to start the beast!   Our bags, which would have challenged the Swift, rattled around forlornly in the back corner of the beast. We climbed in. I stared at the array of switches and instruments in front of me wondering if flying a Boeing aircraft was simpler than this. Nervous laughter and panic fluttered through me. I hailed a passing stranger an...