Three Word Wednesday in a Tweet #7

Calm yourself. You know you can do it, no matter how your nerves rattle. Be yourself; none are so good at it as you.

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Three Word Wednesday in a Tweet #6

Becoming detached from this world will lead to a brisk descent to the miserable plains and the darkest shade of grey.

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Three Word Wednesday in a Tweet #5

Savor a chance to entice their bitter minds towards hopes of grace.

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http://www.threewordwednesday.com/

Three Word Wednesday in a Tweet #4

Do not nestle up to the absolute truth, or fall down before it without first holding it closely to account.

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Sipho's Peace

Scurrying across the room in fear. Footsteps booming overhead, legs churning for his very existence, skittering over the slippery surface of the wooden floor to the hole in the wall.
"He got away again!" cried the child,
"We'll get him next time," called the woman in the room next door.
I hate rats thought the child. He was 9, and an orphan. Small for his age, but growing rapidly now he was eating properly. In the township it used to be that he was lucky to get one meal a day. At least here he ate three times a day and was able to go to school every day. Before he had to look after his little sisters with his older brother. Now, they were all safely in their new home. Victoria, the mother of the house, looked after them. She fed them, cleaned for them and gave them hugs when they were upset. She was also great at fixing things and when his toys were broken Victoria would patiently sit with him and help him put it right.
"Sipho!" His name brought him back to the now, "Why have you stopped sweeping?"
"Sorry Auntie Victoria, I was thinking."
"Oh. What were you thinking about?"
"How it was before." There was a pause. Victoria looked around the door before looking down and then meeting his eyes.
"Do you miss it?"
"No," said Sipho, "but I miss my mother. She used to hug me and her smile made my tummy go funny. I knew I had been good when she smiled. I miss her so much."
Sipho was determined not to cry. Talking about his mother always made him feel upset, but he did not want Victoria to feel bad. He could see she knew he was upset.
"I am sorry Sipho. I am sorry she is not here, but right now it is time to sweep."
With those words the moment passed, the sadness that sometimes crept upon him was swept away like the dust he brushed into a pile on the floor ready to be put into a dustpan and thrown away. But Sipho knew his sadness could not go away. He knew it would return, like a new layer of dust would cover the wooden floor in a few days and it would be his turn to clear it up again. But for now, he could enjoy a bit of peace as he swept. A bit of peace for a little while.

A story based on my experiences with Project Gateway in South Africa

3WW in a Tweet #3

Must all this lethal need hinge on the blood of a Nazarene?

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I must be less, He must be greater

Praise God!

Sing his name, let all around glorify,
lift him high, higher than I,

Bow down now, let all around glorify,
lift him high, higher than I,

Shout out now, let all around glorify,
lift him high, higher than I,

Adore the Lord, let all around glorify,
lift him high, higher than I,

Praise his name, let all around glorify,
lift him high, higher than I.

Out of this ugly mess

Out of this ugly mess,

this attitude of 'I'm the best',

no time, no rest,

just test after test

forgetting each other,

sister and brother,

a tool of a lover,

lies should cover,

our cries,

our ties,

our sighs,

our good byes,

which we deny,

we buy,

time, time, 

time magazine,

hoping it does not end,

that death isn't just around the bend,

that God his angel will not send,

that our life will not blend

in with the host of others

the time gone past

fast fast fast

behind us now

deeds of which we are proud

deeds we sing about loud

and those we ignore

those which bore

into our hearts' core

defying hope,

defying joy,

defying love,

defying God

comes

light.

Let's make them beautiful

My heart lies in a place unknown.

As I have been reading a little bit about St Francis I have rediscovered some of what I am passionate about. I have relearnt that God cares for the poor, the sick, the destitute, the broken. I have recalled why I wept over these things once upon a time. And yesterday I wept once more.


Chasing Francis has been a challenging book for me. Wonderfully written and brilliantly told the story unfolds in a majestic challenge to the Christian who has forgotten the way is Jesus. As mentioned in an earlier post the book explores pilgrimage. As the main character, Chase, is coming to the end of his pilgrimage he tells his guide that he must leave in two days. In response his guide says,


"Let's make them beautiful."

 These four words brought me to tears. I had forgotten what it is like to call a day beautiful. I used to drive to work singing, "This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it." I lost something of this joy recently. It ebbed away as I carried on working in my own strength, trusting to my own skills and my own knowledge. Instead, I need to turn to Christ, to kneel at his feet and find joy in supplication once more. I need to remember that each day can be beautiful, that each moment is as beautiful as I make it. As I step into tomorrow and the day after I am thinking to myself, "Let's make them beautiful."
 

Three Word Wednesday in a Tweet #2

Please be lenient on me as I struggle through this fog of unknowing.

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Three Word Wednesday in a Tweet

Cling on dear one, for there is a murmur that all hope is not yet taken. 

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Time to be a pilgrim

My decision to seek shalom concides with one of those times when you hear one word repeated over and over again in different contexts; one of those times when God is speaking. 

A wise man (@UrbanFriar) suggested I read 'Chasing Francis' by Ian Morgan Cron. I have begun this book, and I am enjoying it immensely. An evangelical pastor coming to a crisis of faith begins a pilgrimage looking back over St Francis of Assisi's experiences.

Last Thursday was my last day of college (three years of degree complete, bar one assignment which hangs over me like a piano on a thread) and our year tutor shared with us her thoughts on Psalm 84, particularly verse 5 which reads 'Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.'

So, what is pilgrimage about? 

Dictionary.com says a pilgrimage is a journey, especially a long one, made to some sacred place as an act of religious devotion. A pilgrim is someone who undertakes such a journey. 

As yet, I cannot work out what this means for me. Perhaps a journey awaits, whether literal or metaphorical I do not know, but in order to start a journey one needs to take a step.  


So today, I shall take a step.

Exhausted and I know it

I have decided to stop my protest against the new google privacy policy. I was refusing to post under this new policy, but have decided it is time to blog once more. 

It crept up on me, and I feel like it has knocked me over.

Once upon a time I was filled with zeal and energy. I was able to give apparently endlessly. Now that time has ceased. Now I need a holiday.

In the past month and a half I have had three full days off and now I am completely drained. I cannot even think of a reflection for my youth work session tomorrow on Daniel and the Lions' Den (any ideas welcome). 

I need to rest, to find shalom. I know not where I'll find it but I had better start looking once more.

 

Whispers of a new life

Hearing the whispers of a new life.

A life where it can be different, where I can be free. Letting go of the chains which sink me, those thoughts which cycle round, holding me down.

A flower blooms in the first sun of spring, as hope blossoms afresh once more.

Discarded dreams, shattered shopping trolley.

The litter blown along the road by gusts of wind, caught in a hand which places it where it should be. The rubbish bin. To be removed, to no longer be in the way, ruining precious beauty.

Hearing the whispers of a new life.

3WW Where to now?

Where does your naughty tactic get you? To the zenith of life or the pit of despair?

(3WW in a tweet. Follow @insanemessenger

Choices

A new year is upon us all. Approximately 2012 years since the birth of Jesus Christ.

2012 years of war, famine, injustice, persecution and abuse caused by the Church.

Yet we are still left with choices. Where do we invest our money? Who do we spend time with? What do I give my life to?

Choices make a person. When we make the right choice in small things often we make the right choice in big things. (That wisdom is 2000 years old.)

I have been at my parents house for Christmas with my two younger sisters who attend secondary school. My littlest sister refused to go to school today. She feared the teachers.

Aside: What kind of school is it that thinks learning happens best through fear? How does that motivate a child to continue learning at home?

So petrified was she that she had stomach cramps in the night, that her normally bright and joyful nature turned to anger and frustration.

She had refused to go to school by the time I got up.

I thought it would be an idea to give her a choice.

'You can go to school for last period if you want. I'll go with you.'

Rather than pressure, rather than autocratic orders with promises of punishment if obedience was not immediate I provided choice.

After some deliberation and tears my sister decided to go to school. I went with her to sign her in.

She has made the right choice, and hopefully will be able to face school tomorrow. As we step into the new year ahead choices will befall us. Our decisions will decide our future; as individuals, families, communities and as a Church. Let's try to make the right ones.