Patmos

The ink sputters on the white clean parchment. I have re-lit the light, writing in the light from the bending taper. At the close of the year, I think of our Lord's Birth Day. The young mother. Ostracised and alone. Husband beginning to understand. Long journeys from Kings and mothers heavy with child. Roads thick with dust and nailing heat. Aching back from camel or donkey seat. New star. Unearthly guiding light. Shepherds with their smelly sheep suddenly suffused in light, music and glory. Rushing to Bethlehem to see and then rushing away to tell.

But this baby, this God-with-us bundle of joy, Was and Is, before anything else was. With God himself, right when the world was first being made. Making it happen.

So in this Word, this revealer of the truth, this Person by which things happen, by a great mystery, he is a man to us but also light and life and goodness and God Himself. He showed us what God is like. He showed us the way back to him. The path of forgiveness and grace.

He wasn't recognised truly for who he was, not in birth, or life or in death. The empty tomb, the shining angels saying "He is alive", the wounded hands made it plain. And belief in this forgiveness-giver, life-giver, grace-giver and blessing-giver makes us children of Most High God.

And so I begin, this record, so that many will read and believe - I write so they might believe and have the life that is life. I write to add to the many books that will be written. The world is not big enough to contain all the books that could be written about the things our Lord did. I write so that our Lord Jesus might be known.


"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.

In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it. There came a man who was sent from God; his name was John.
He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all men might believe.
He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light.

The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognise him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.

Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

John testifies concerning him. He cries out, saying, This was he of whom I said, 'He who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.' From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No-one has ever seen God, but God the One and Only, who is at the Father's side, has made him known."

John ch 1 vs 1-18 (NIV)

"But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.....Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.

John ch 20 vs 31 and ch 21 vs 25 (NIV)

Rachel of Rama

My dear Theophilus,

Thank you for your recent letter. It found me well - but I was sorry to hear of your wife's illness and I hope she recovers speedily.

In recent weeks I have been looking at details of the birth of our Lord. It is hard to find in Nazareth stories of the young Mary and Joseph - although I have spoken with one of the sisters of the Lord Jesus who lives there with her family. We know that Mary and Joseph set out on the long journey to Bethlehem in the later stages of her pregnancy and so it is to Bethlehem that I have travelled. Again it has been hard to find people to talk to who are witnesses of what occurred. I have spoken with Simon who was a young shepherd at the time, and one of the group to whom Angels appeared to. They later went into Bethlehem that night and found the baby Jesus with his parents.

However, I wished also to speak to families who lost sons in the terrible blood letting that followed. King Herod had heard through the Magi and his advisers of the whereabouts of the child but both the Magi and then later Joseph, Mary and the child evaded him. Every boy in the town of Bethlehem under the age of two years was murdered. I was pointed in the direction of a lady called Keziah. Her younger brother was killed. She merely confirmed the little I knew. A bright white light from a new star had shone and then later faded in the days before the massacre. There was no warning, that dreadful night of bloodshed. Out of the night came Roman soldiers. Keziah described terrible screaming that night, and of course others were injured apart from the children. Frantic parents and older siblings trying to protect their young sons. Grief like a cloud descended and took many years to lift. The prophecy did come true.

The good news that came out of my meeting with Keziah is to know that she herself is a believer. She travelled to hear our Lord teach and heard much of his sermon on the mount. Later she heard of the crucifixion and resurrection and she too believed. Her heart has mended and had let the burden of grief down and knows promise of a place where all the tears will be dried.

It has been sobering though, to hear of the suffering that has taken place in this town of Bethlehem. I trust this letter will find you well. My investigations continue apace.

In Our Lord,
Luke.

Magnificat

And Mary said:

“My soul glorifies the Lord

I set out on my journey some weeks ago now. The roads have been very dry and dusty and the journey has been tiring because of this sickness. I hold my secret close like a precious thing. "Do not be afraid" echoes through my mind and so I concentrate on this. Elizabeth is a faithful friend and she will believe me. We had heard that she and Zechariah have their own miracle to treasure. Although it seems less complicated than my own situation. There is nothing to be mis-understood. They are married after all. I have decided though, to not worry about Joseph. I cannot help but think that for something so miraculous and wondrous, that the Almighty can reassure a man's heart and given him peace and purpose.


and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.

Now almost 2 months ago, I was at home cleaning. Waiting to go visit Joseph's family. It was an ordinary day, ordinary tasks and little things to do. Dusty Nazareth on a an ordinary hot and dusty day, and one of the smallest houses in the town. No-one important. Not the place of kings and no palaces to be seen. Quietly out of the mid-day heat came, this great being with great news. Of great joy. For everyone. And for me out of the amazement and fear, peace and a settled-ness, that God will care for me, as he saw me, that village girl. I have pondered this more than anything. The humility of it all. Not for me, but for God to be humble, to choose a person of no importance and no grandeur. It makes me wonder as to the kind of man, this Son of God will be. A humble king. A king not born in a palace.

From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me— holy is his name.

I am with Elizabeth now. It has indeed been a wonderful thing to come here. She knew immediately. Without even being told, she exclaimed that her own baby had moved within her. "But why am I so favoured, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?.....Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished."

Another blessing. I was thinking that I would at the very least, have to tell Elizabeth my news and that she would hopefully believe me but I arrive, and she knew. She knew. I had not cried. But I cried with relief, then, because another person was filled with wonder and belief. The Mighty One is mighty indeed and he is doing great things for me. And how I am blessed!

His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.

To think that the Messiah is coming. The long awaited King. I look back and think of promises made. Isaiah the prophet. Ezekiel telling of a time to come. My people. My waiting people, wayward but praying for deliverance now, and waiting, so much waiting. And it is here! I want to cry out from the rooftops. Burning deep seated excitement and joy. There is a strangeness though to it all, that perhaps in this humble Son of God, born to this girl of no consequence, that there is something coming that we don't expect in a Messiah. Or might not want. "He will save his people from their sins", the angel said. No great over-turning of the Romans, but forgiveness of sins. So it is strange and mysterious.

He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;

Saved. A Saviour. "You will call him Yeshua. Jesus." Joshua. He Saves. He saved us from the Egyptians. He carried us in the wilderness. He brought down the walls of Jericho. He raised up a man after his own heart. Even after the disobedience of my people, He preserved a remnant. Mighty deeds with a mighty and loving arm. "For He will save his people from their sins".


he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts. He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty.

This humble Son of God. Born in humility. My thoughts turn back to this, that God did not choose the great to bring his Son into the world. Not even the daughter of a Rabbi. Or a great and wealthy Jew. So much to ponder and treasure in this wondrous thing. I cannot comprehend it. I have to trust Him though. Trust in his power and his goodness. Trust that the God who can bring rulers down, will care for me and care for the baby to be born.


He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful to Abraham and his descendants forever, just as he promised our ancestors.”

My people. My waiting people. Oh that they will see, when this time comes. "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.." Oh that they will see the great light that is dawning. Meanwhile, I wait myself. Wait for this baby to be born. I am safe with Elizabeth now but I will soon return home and my heart can fret. But I will not fret and God will care and provide.

Luke 1:46-55

Elizabeth

The ache had all but gone. I had passed it off as unreasonable hope many years ago. This deferred hope and longing. But it was no longer deferred as much as unreachable and impossible. King Solomon himself said :- "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." And my heart had been sick with it, but had healed, without the longing immediately fulfilled. Now we are visited in our relative dotage with this "tree of life" indeed, surprised by hope and joy.

It has been a strange few months and of course Zechariah cannot speak, so the joy is pressed down and is truly "unspeakable". A consequence of unbelief. How guilty I had been of that myself. Doubts and un-met needs. Other people's children swirled around me in life and in my dreams. Chattering. Unfettered smiles and hearts. How fettered my heart had been with envy and grief. For childlessness is a grieving. A loss. We imagine them. A little girl, like me. Like I was, with a cheeky smile, and drifting soft brown curls. We give them names. Our children that never live have names. Hannah. Of course I would of named her Hannah. My alter ego of tears and grief and barrenness.

This is our story though of "How blessed am I..." Zechariah had been chosen on that day to go into the Holy of Holies in the Temple. Never before, but on this day, his name had come up, drawn by lot. They had tied the rope around his ankle in case he was struck dead in that terrible Holy of Holies. I had stood outside unsuspecting of what was going to come. He took longer that he ought and a secret dread and fear had crept into my heart. Would we hauling him out? My thoughts drifted to my own fear of God, the fear of not being struck dead, but a lack of goodness. Of with-holding. "No good thing does he with-hold..." And yet had I not had "good" things with-held from me...specifically running around, little, smiling, chattering "good" things.

I did not have much longer to wait for he emerged, pale and tired looking....and struck entirely dumb. Others around concluded he had seen some sort of vision. He had more duties for a period of time at the Temple and so could not immediately come home. I am still uncertain as to what actually took place and all that was said, and more importantly, it's significance. But it is significant. A much deeper purpose than our desire for children.

And so in the this new season, I am waiting. Suprised by new life, surprised by sickness in the morning. Surprised by the answer to this old-new begging aching pleading prayer. We are to call him John. Zechariah has told me this through writing it down. John who will be a joy, a delight, for whom many will rejoice. John who will turn people's hearts back to the Lord, who will prepare a way. In our hearts we sence preparation for Someone and Something else. Mary is coming to visit also from Nazareth. My deeply contained building excitment and wonder can be shared with this dearest cousin. God's goodness is a mysterious thing, hidden and not always obvious in it's purposes. I cannot peel back the cover but it is real. Real and sure. So I wait. Wait for family to visit, wait for this life to grow, wait for this Tree of Life, wait for a Coming.
1. Proverbs 13:12
2. Psalm 84:11
3. Luke ch 1:1-38

The tale of two lost rings and grace.

One ring has a pale blue stone with twisted cross-over type setting. It is pale gold (nine carat). The other ring is silver with etchings around the rim. One is from a Fair Trade shop and the other from a Jewellers.


I wore the aqua ring to work about a month ago, and took it off briefly and put it in my pocket. It must of fallen out. It was one of those days where I had tramped through the hospital (next to the medical school) to buy bits and pieces from the hospital shop. So without speaking to anyone in the department, I frantically re-traced my steps and in the end spoke to hospital security and reported it missing. By this point I had given up on finding it. Rather down-hearted I returned to the Medical School, and thought on the spur of the moment to check with one of the secretaries that no-one had found it. I should of done this at the beginning of my quest to find my ring because it turned out that someone had found it, handed it in and an email had been sent around reporting that a ring had been found. So I got my ring back. It was lost but then later found.

You would think I would of learnt my lesson, but a few weeks later, I wore the silver ring except this time to the GP practice where I work. I had a busy day and was one of the last to leave at 7:30 pm. Before leaving I was running around tidying up and packing up my doctor's bag. In the car driving home, I suddenly realised that my ring was no longer on the my finger. Not as expensive as the other one but with more sentimental value I felt the disappointment. I emailed the practice the next day who looked in the places where I thought it might of fallen off and put up notices. But no-one had found it. The following week, I was duty doctor and visiting a patient at home and pulling equipment out of my doctor's bag. Buried under everything right at the bottom of the bag, I spotted a silver ring. I had found it! What a feeling of sudden relief and happiness.

So I have lost two rings in the space of about 4 weeks and found both of them. I was pondering how "lost" I can become, because of sin, weariness and distractions and how persistent God is at finding me and setting me back on the right track. Or when I see my "lostness" and run home in tears how wide are the open arms and how willing to draw me back. And how are innumerable are the fresh new starts that are to be had.

"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound!
That saved a wretch like me
I was lost, but now am found
Was blind but now I see"
John Newton

"Then Jesus told them this parable: “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.

“Or suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one. Doesn’t she light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.’ In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

" So he got up and went to his Father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him....
'My son', the father said, 'you are always with me and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead but now is alive, he was lost but now is found.'"
Luke 15: 3-10, 20, 31

The Prime of a Charity Shop Owner

Miss Rhoda Mackensie was a lady who prided herself on the quality of her goods. They had to be neat and clean and if they were particularly old they required the air of an "antique". China was always welcome, but must be truly fine, no chips and no old pieces from the supermarket. The literature had to be good quality too, no trashy novels and she prized old dusty hardbacks. The only things that she liked dusty were the old books but she dusted them thoroughly anyway.

On this particular September morning, she arose early, made tea and surveyed the quantity of bin liners that had arrived yesterday following a family leaving town. She was resigned to sorting through the detritus of people's lives, sifting out the rubbish and the unsellable. There was nothing so unlikeable as the notion that a Charity shop was a dumping ground for the clutter of the masses. However, there was enormous satisfaction in un-earthing a treasure, that could be cleaned and polished if necessary and then displayed to best advantage. Just last week, a lady had left half a dozen bin liners and buried in the depths of one, was a beautiful antique mirror that only required some dusting and polishing. It sold that very day.

Glancing at the display cabinet towards the back of the shop, she sighed. Yesterday the set of Wedgewood had so nearly sold, except for the fact that Mrs Smith, a volunteer in her 70s had dropped the teapot of the set behind the counter smashing it just before the customer paid. The lady had flounced out the shop highly indignant and Mrs Smith had succombed to hysterics, calming down only after multiple cups of tea had been made and consumed. Charity shop volunteers of course were never sacked. Perhaps the set should be separated out, and someone might choose to buy only the plates. Or perhaps I might buy the tea-cups myself, Miss Mackensie thought to herself. She finished her cup of tea taking careful sips.

Some re-writing of history.

Since writing a first Travels with Luke letter I have discovered after doing some reading that my dating of when Luke was written, as after Paul's death is not accurate at all! Particularly in view of the fact that Paul was still in prison at the end of Acts, and this would probably therefore indicate that Luke and Acts were written before his death and also before the great persecution under Nero had broken out. So I am going to re-write it, unsurprisingly! More research is certainly needed but I like the basic idea.

Travels with Luke : Beginnings of an Idea

My dear Theophilus,

I was so thankful to receive your recent letter. You were right to assume that I am still in Rome. I have been here these 6 years now. As you mentioned in your letter it is now almost 4 years since our brother Paul was executed. I have remained in the city but it has at times been most dangerous for Christians and so I have often stayed in various places because of the persecution. And so I am especially pleased that your letter reached me, via your friends who kindly carried it to me. It has been a great pleasure to be re-united with Salome and Marcus, and news of you has lightened my heart.

My medical work continues to give me plenty to do - I mostly visit various patients who hear of me by word of mouth, but also, people come to me where ever I am staying and I can administer various treatments. However as you mention in your letter I have considered the possibility of moving partly because it has been on my heart to commence the research which I have discussed with you before. I would very much like to hear from you the particular questions that you have regarding the life and work of our Lord but also questions regarding what happened after the Resurrection and the travels of our brother Paul. I wish also to discuss this endeavour with brothers and sisters here in the city. I do believe in order to carry out my research properly and well I would have to travel. I send this letter back to you with great affection. May you remain steadfastly in Him.

Your brother, Luke

Out of Moab

There is a new family in town. Mother says they are refugees from Israel. There is a famine there at the moment, and so they have come here to find food. But Mother says they have done the wrong thing in coming here. Their God would not be happy about them living here with us in Moab. I am not sure why though.

There are two boys, one the same age as me and another who is younger. They are terribly thin little things. And Naomi their mother looks unhappy, mouth twisted with bitterness and discontent. Elkanah seems the most alive - choosing a house here to rent and trying to dig in the dusty garden. He is working as a labourer already in the fields, just gleaning at the moment. Naomi has been at the well drawing water.

Ishvi, my Uncle says nothing breaks people down like famine. Counting each mouthful and wondering where the next will come from. I canot imagine it. I must go to the well, myself.
Yours truly, Ruthi.

............................

The evening cool comes on, dust settling at last. Suddenly dusk will come like a blanket, soon after the sun has disappeared. The girl waits her turn. Ahead there is boy holding the pitcher awkwardly under one arm. He walks up to the edge of the well and lowers his pitcher, attached to the twine. It swings back and forth on the way back up spashing half it's contents back into the well. He sighs, and trys again. The twine swings erratically again. The girl moves forward hesitantly.
"You need to hold it steady".
He turns and looks at her, face strained and weary.
"Here, I'll show you." He lets her lower it again, and they slowely raise it together - nearly full to overflowing. Without speaking they lower her pitcher and bring it back to the surface. He sighs with relief and smiles briefly.

They walk away from the well together towards home.
"We are new here", he says.
"I know." She pauses; "do you like the end house?"
"Its alright. Much smaller than our house in Bethlehem. But at least there is food here." He speaks with a strange accent.

They reach her home and pause briefly.
"What's your name"?

"Ruth".

"Goodnight Ruth. Thanks for your help". He starts to walk away.

What is your name"?, she calls after him.

He turns and looks back. "Mahlon, my name is Mahlon." They both smile, and he walks away, carefully balancing his pitcherful.