One of the glories of England’s quiet shires is the patchwork of little country parishes each with its own church and churchyard, many of them national treasures. Come and see ours and find out how mistaken Philip Larkin was! Continue reading “An English Village Church”→
Keats’ ‘gathering swallows twittering in the skies‘ have gone and last week I heard the plaintive call of a chiff chaff, a sign that other migrants are on their way back south, to warmer climes. We’re left alone to contemplate with the sad autumnal song of ‘the redbreast whistling from a garden croft’. We feel we’ve been watching summer’s ‘soft dying day‘. Continue reading “Michaelmas – angels unawares”→
Imagine how miserable those first disciples of Jesus must have felt after the terrible events of Good Friday. The words of those two on the road to Emmaus say what they all must have thought ‘we had hoped that he would be the one who was going to redeem Israel……..’ (Luke’s Gospel chapter 24 verse 21) But then, on the third day, the most wonderful thing happened and all was changed.
I hope you won’t mind, but for this post I want to use a story as a sort of personal reflection on a theme dear to my own heart – the Father-heart of God. In the midst of a cold January spell of weather, I hope it will come as a cordial to warm us from the inside.
Oh Dear !
Just take a look at this rather sad looking toy rabbit. Nothing much to notice really – hardly deserves a second glance. It looks rather shabby, worn and neglected, unlike the other toys around which look shiny and new, fresh from their Christmas-wrapped boxes.
Seest thou, my Soul, with thy faith’s eyes, how he
Which fills all place, yet none holds him, doth lie?
Was not his pity towards thee wondrous high,
That would have need to be pitied by thee?
Kiss him, and with him into Egypt goe,
With his kind mother, who partakes thy woe.
This old verse is part of the poet John Donne’s 7 verse poem ‘La Corona’ (The Crown) about the life of Christ from the Annunciation to the Ascension.
What Glorious ‘Impossibilities’!
The Maker is made , the One who is everywhere is ‘cloistered’ in a womb, the All powerful Creator comes in the weakness and vulnerability of a babe, the God of love, becomes an infant needing a mother’s loving care. We walk on holy ground here!
The line that has been ringing in my ears since hearing this poem read out aloud (as all poetry should be) is ‘Immensity cloistered in thy dear wombe’.
How wonderful that though there was ‘no room in the inn’, there was room in Mary’s womb—a place where Immensity could be ‘cloistered’ – staggering thought. We can all identify with this, since we have all come from a mother’s ‘womb’ – a place of security and warmth were life can begin. We can identify with Jesus as he identifies with us, not just from ‘the cradle to the grave’, as we sometimes say, but from the womb to the Resurrection – the whole of life.
Have a heart felt and Christ filled Christmas this year.
The Wonder and the Mystery
A ferry boat full of excited visitors is making the short journey across the water to a small rugged island off Mull in Western Highlands of Scotland. With the gulls calling overhead and the salty wind blowing in their faces, there is a sense of expectation in the passengers. The smell, sounds, and sights in this remote place are refreshingly far removed from the hectic, noisy hype and creature comforts of our modern city lives. With some relief after a long journey, by land and sea, the visitors step ashore on this tiny, but very special place, conscious that they are stepping back in time as thousands of visitors and pilgrims have done before them. This is a ‘thin place’ – where heaven and earth seem to meet. It has been a place dear to many Christians—we feel a sense of connection with our early Christian forefathers here. This island is, of course, Iona. Continue reading “The Wonder and the Mystery”→