"And I will cause hostility between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring. He will strike your head, and you will strike his heel." Genesis 3: 11
"Alright then! The Lord Himself will give you a sign. Look, the virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son and will call Him Immanuel (which means 'God is with us')" Isaiah 7: 14
"My mercy and justice are coming soon. My salvation is on the way. My strong arm will bring justice to the nations. All the distant lands will look to me and wait in hope for my powerful arm." Isaiah 51: 5
"In the beginning, the Word already existed. The Word was with God and the Word was God. He existed in the beginning with God, and nothing was created except through Him... So the Word became human and made His home among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. And we have seen his glory, the glory of the Father's one and only son." John 1: 1-3, 14
"And while they were there, the time came for her baby to be born,. She gave birth to her first child, a son. She wrapped Him snugly in strips of cloth and laid Him in a manger, because there was no lodging available for them." Luke 2: 6 - 7
"Then Simeon blessed them, and he said to Mary, the baby's mother, 'This child is destined to cause many in Israel to fall, but He will be a joy to many others. He has been sent as a sign from God, but many will oppose Him. As a result, the deepest thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your very soul." Luke 2: 34 - 35
"But He was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins. He was beaten so we could be whole, He was whipped so we could be healed. All of us, like sheep, have strayed away. We have left God's path to follow our own. Yet the Lord laid on Him the sins of us all." Isaiah 53: 5 - 6
" 'Men of Galilee,' they said, 'why are you standing here staring into Heaven? Jesus has been taken from you into heaven, but someday He will return from heaven in the same way you saw Him go." Acts 1: 11
" 'Look, I am coming soon, bringing my reward with me to repay all people according to their deeds. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End." Revelation 22: 12 - 13
The Incarnation... it is the great mystery of the ages.
The God become Man. The God-Man Babe who was the God-Man Sacrifice who is the Priest King of Heaven.
Seriously, it blows my mind.
That God, the Creator of Heaven and Earth should stoop down to become a human. To be born as a squalling little baby, in a stable, in a backwater town of a backwater region of the Roman Empire.
In order to save me and anyone else who accepts it from Hell.
Wow. Wow. Wow. WOW! And have I mentioned: "WOW!!"?
The assistant minister said it last night. He said it clear for all to hear. That first Christmas was the Dawn of a new Day of Grace.
And it was true.
That First Christmas began the life that fulfilled promises that reached back into the mists of time.
It was the day on which GOD lovingly condescended to become one of us, His broken, defiled creation, so that He could reach us and save us because He knew we could not reach Him or save ourselves.
It was a life of sacrifice right from the start.
The one child who could choose where He wanted to be born and who His family would be, chose a carpenter as His father, a virgin as His mother, a stable as His birthing place and a manger as His first resting place.
The only words I can think are "this blows my mind".
Because I know I don't deserve it.
I don't deserve that kind of Love and Grace.
And I have yet to meet someone who can convince me that they do.
But that's the Miracle of Grace, the Gift of Christmas.
We don't deserve God's love. We don't deserve His Grace. We don't deserve His Mercy. But He stooped down and gives it to us anyway.
No wonder He is Exalted.
No wonder the angels sang His praises, and the magi travelled far to meet Him.
What a mind-boggling, brain-bending, heart stopping truth.
So, today, Christmas Day, I give whole hearted thanks for that Child, for that Man. Because He is my Everything, and I can't do it without Him.
Happy Remembrance of Jesus' Birth Day everyone.
Wednesday, 25 December 2013
Tuesday, 24 December 2013
Thanksgiving #2 - Family
My heart is extremely heavy this Christmas Eve.
There is a weight that sits on it, pressing down. There have been moments when I have found it hard to breathe through the pain. And I have been driven to my knees, both metaphorically and literally.
And, despite the pain, or perhaps because of the pain, I realize how grateful I am for my parents and sisters.
This world is so broken. I just can't avoid it. Not this year, and I doubt I will ever be able to again.
I sit in church and a friend talks about the brother who has just had a major row with his family.
I scroll down my newsfeed, and I see the posts from the girl whose mother died only a month ago and whose boyfriend left her pregnant. She mourns the loss of both those people, and knows that Christmas just won't be the same this year.
I sit at my kitchen table writing and hear my parents tell us that our uncle and his wife have split up. That makes the third couple out of five from that generation to break up... and the second this year.
I walk outside and hear the neighbours arguing. An affair, a heartbreak, a desire to end the marriage.
I think of people around the world on Christmas, and can think only of those being sexually abused for money, meeting in secret to worship, dying by the thousands from hunger and starvation.
My heart is thudding in my chest. It hurts. It hurts so badly.
Then I look around my home. At my parents, at my sisters, and my heart whispers thank you.
Thank you that my parents are still together, still love each other.
Thank you that I can count my sisters among my best friends.
Thank you that my family is still together, and unlikely to break apart.
Because it's not through anything we've done. We've said no spell, hit upon no secret for the perfect home.
We argue, we disrespect, we hurt each other. It all happens.
But we are united by something deeper than our own sinfulness. The Love of God and the shared knowledge and understanding of what Christmas is all about. The God-become-Man who brought us Grace beyond measure.
He is at the centre of our lives, and He holds us all together.
And I am so very, very grateful.
There is a weight that sits on it, pressing down. There have been moments when I have found it hard to breathe through the pain. And I have been driven to my knees, both metaphorically and literally.
And, despite the pain, or perhaps because of the pain, I realize how grateful I am for my parents and sisters.
This world is so broken. I just can't avoid it. Not this year, and I doubt I will ever be able to again.
I sit in church and a friend talks about the brother who has just had a major row with his family.
I scroll down my newsfeed, and I see the posts from the girl whose mother died only a month ago and whose boyfriend left her pregnant. She mourns the loss of both those people, and knows that Christmas just won't be the same this year.
I sit at my kitchen table writing and hear my parents tell us that our uncle and his wife have split up. That makes the third couple out of five from that generation to break up... and the second this year.
I walk outside and hear the neighbours arguing. An affair, a heartbreak, a desire to end the marriage.
I think of people around the world on Christmas, and can think only of those being sexually abused for money, meeting in secret to worship, dying by the thousands from hunger and starvation.
My heart is thudding in my chest. It hurts. It hurts so badly.
Then I look around my home. At my parents, at my sisters, and my heart whispers thank you.
Thank you that my parents are still together, still love each other.
Thank you that I can count my sisters among my best friends.
Thank you that my family is still together, and unlikely to break apart.
Because it's not through anything we've done. We've said no spell, hit upon no secret for the perfect home.
We argue, we disrespect, we hurt each other. It all happens.
But we are united by something deeper than our own sinfulness. The Love of God and the shared knowledge and understanding of what Christmas is all about. The God-become-Man who brought us Grace beyond measure.
He is at the centre of our lives, and He holds us all together.
And I am so very, very grateful.
Sunday, 22 December 2013
Thanksgiving #4 - TV shows
Hey everyone,
So sorry that I haven't really been writing here. I've been spending the past few weeks as far away as possible from social media. I really needed the break.
But, I'm back, and I'll be trying to write one everyday between now and Christmas (all 4 days of them).
This may seem slightly strange, but today I am thanking God for TV shows. Over the past couple of weeks, I've spent a lot of time watching through some awesome scifi shows (yes, I am a nerd!). And I have been absolutely loving it.
The stories have been firing my imaginations, giving me questions to think about and have been allowing me to relax. So, I thank God for them and for the creativity He has blessed us with to create such shows.
So sorry that I haven't really been writing here. I've been spending the past few weeks as far away as possible from social media. I really needed the break.
But, I'm back, and I'll be trying to write one everyday between now and Christmas (all 4 days of them).
This may seem slightly strange, but today I am thanking God for TV shows. Over the past couple of weeks, I've spent a lot of time watching through some awesome scifi shows (yes, I am a nerd!). And I have been absolutely loving it.
The stories have been firing my imaginations, giving me questions to think about and have been allowing me to relax. So, I thank God for them and for the creativity He has blessed us with to create such shows.
Friday, 13 December 2013
Thanksgiving #13 - The Simple and Unexpected
We were strolling down the main path of Hyde Park, chatting about the trees and bagpipes, when she exclaimed "I love this guy!"
Startled, I looked around, not sure whom she was talking about. Then I saw him too.
He stood on the path holding a loop of string attached to two sticks. He dipped the string in a bucket and pulled it up. Moving with ease and confidence, he stretched open the string, using the sticks. The wind caught the liquid suspended in the loop and blew it out. It formed a bubble, a translucent sheet of dancing colour.
He moved to place this broad billowing sheet over the head of a young boy who whimpered and pressed closer to the woman beside him. She and the man chuckled and the man re-dipped the string in the bucket.
Again, a billowing tunnel of colour formed in the air. He took it over to a young girl who stuck her head into it, giggling the way only a child can. Her siblings, who stood beside her, giggled too.
Then the man grasped who looked almost like a solid plastic net out of a shallow bowl and twirled it through the air.
Hundreds of paper thin spheres of colour came bursting out. Caught by the wind, they danced along merrily as a little boy laughed and chased them, hands outstretched to catch them.
Soon, we moved away, having laughed and been delighted. I murmured to my friend, feeling a deep contentment, "that'll be appearing on my blog". She asked why and I answered.
It's sometimes, always, the simple things in life that bring us the most joy. So often, we over-complicate life, we look for joy in the complex things. And yet... it's the simple things - bubbles on the wind in the park, the laugh of a child, an avenue of trees - that bring us the sweetest moments of joy. That curve our lips in the softest of smiles and bring a glow to our eyes.
She smiled her agreement "and the surprising things, the unexpected things."
I nodded and we continued on our walk, chatting easily until we reached our destination.
The moment we stepped through the door a hush descended. Not an awkward hush, not even a companionable hush, but a reverent hush.
The towering ceiling supported by carved dark wood rafters, sandstone walls that glowed in the yellow sunlight, stain glass windows with familiar scenes - the maji, the babe and other storie s from the incredible life of that one pure man who lived and died 2000 and years ago, and who continues to live today.
We sat, two young woman who love the Lord, on the pews of that cathedral, our eyes caught up by the beauty of the building and our minds and hearts wondering at, worshipping, the glory and graciousness of the God the building was built to glorify.
The silence was not suffocating, it was releasing. We sat, our own thoughts wondering, occasionally whispering to each other, sharing some thought to ponder.
How incredible is our God, we both agreed.
And even after we'd left the building, it took a few minutes for the us to stop whispering and speak in normal voices. We strolled around the city, sipping cool drinks and trying not to feel the heat. We chatted, mostly theology, sometimes life, until I boarded my train.
We hugged good-bye and I couldn't help but think how grateful I am. How thank I am for the simple and unexpected, and, at that moment, most of all, the friend who was vanishing up the steps to her own platform.
An, as I sat down and started to write, I realized writing was no longer a struggle. I wasn't feeling like I had to rack my brains in search of a thanksgiving point to write on.
God's grace had, once again, found me, through no work of my own, and had left me silenced, but brimming with joy and thanksgiving.
And the words, they almost wrote themselves.
Thank you, Father. My heart needed this little gift of yours!
Startled, I looked around, not sure whom she was talking about. Then I saw him too.
He stood on the path holding a loop of string attached to two sticks. He dipped the string in a bucket and pulled it up. Moving with ease and confidence, he stretched open the string, using the sticks. The wind caught the liquid suspended in the loop and blew it out. It formed a bubble, a translucent sheet of dancing colour.
He moved to place this broad billowing sheet over the head of a young boy who whimpered and pressed closer to the woman beside him. She and the man chuckled and the man re-dipped the string in the bucket.
Again, a billowing tunnel of colour formed in the air. He took it over to a young girl who stuck her head into it, giggling the way only a child can. Her siblings, who stood beside her, giggled too.
Then the man grasped who looked almost like a solid plastic net out of a shallow bowl and twirled it through the air.
Hundreds of paper thin spheres of colour came bursting out. Caught by the wind, they danced along merrily as a little boy laughed and chased them, hands outstretched to catch them.
Soon, we moved away, having laughed and been delighted. I murmured to my friend, feeling a deep contentment, "that'll be appearing on my blog". She asked why and I answered.
It's sometimes, always, the simple things in life that bring us the most joy. So often, we over-complicate life, we look for joy in the complex things. And yet... it's the simple things - bubbles on the wind in the park, the laugh of a child, an avenue of trees - that bring us the sweetest moments of joy. That curve our lips in the softest of smiles and bring a glow to our eyes.
She smiled her agreement "and the surprising things, the unexpected things."
I nodded and we continued on our walk, chatting easily until we reached our destination.
The moment we stepped through the door a hush descended. Not an awkward hush, not even a companionable hush, but a reverent hush.
The towering ceiling supported by carved dark wood rafters, sandstone walls that glowed in the yellow sunlight, stain glass windows with familiar scenes - the maji, the babe and other storie s from the incredible life of that one pure man who lived and died 2000 and years ago, and who continues to live today.
We sat, two young woman who love the Lord, on the pews of that cathedral, our eyes caught up by the beauty of the building and our minds and hearts wondering at, worshipping, the glory and graciousness of the God the building was built to glorify.
The silence was not suffocating, it was releasing. We sat, our own thoughts wondering, occasionally whispering to each other, sharing some thought to ponder.
How incredible is our God, we both agreed.
And even after we'd left the building, it took a few minutes for the us to stop whispering and speak in normal voices. We strolled around the city, sipping cool drinks and trying not to feel the heat. We chatted, mostly theology, sometimes life, until I boarded my train.
We hugged good-bye and I couldn't help but think how grateful I am. How thank I am for the simple and unexpected, and, at that moment, most of all, the friend who was vanishing up the steps to her own platform.
An, as I sat down and started to write, I realized writing was no longer a struggle. I wasn't feeling like I had to rack my brains in search of a thanksgiving point to write on.
God's grace had, once again, found me, through no work of my own, and had left me silenced, but brimming with joy and thanksgiving.
And the words, they almost wrote themselves.
Thank you, Father. My heart needed this little gift of yours!
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