Written for YLCF "A Peek into your Passion with a Purpose" Carnival. (http://www.ylcf.org/)
I do think "passion" and "passionate" are strange words. They are words I never use in real life. Perhaps it is English reserve and under-statedness- a wish to not exaggerate an interest or a reflection of a more sanguine personality. So I won't be using the word over much. I am "passionate" about different things; good books, old books, chalet school books, Radio 4, old fashioned General Practice (read The Citadel by A.J. Cronin), good films, costume dramas, primary care research, teaching. I know that I ought to be more "passionate" (oh- one more time) about following Jesus, studying my Bible and serving him. But these good things and interests, that I have mentioned are not separate from following Him, but all woven in and precious gifts from a loving Father, because all of our lives, the mundane and the fascinating is "in Christ" if we are "in Him".
However- to get to the point - what is my "passion"? There is a back story....
Five years ago I moved into my current accommodation which is a two bedroom flat in a block of flats. Upstairs from me, lived an Algerian lady married to a Scottish man with there two girls. They are Muslims. Gradually over the next two years I became friends with Fatiha, babysat Leena and Noor, started the Matilda club. In the month of Ramadan, three years ago now, she introduced me to her friends; Khadija, another Khadija, Reem, Cheharazed, Faiza, Aida, Wouroud. I read books, thinking about my friendship with these ladies (who are mostly from North Africa) and how I might be a better friend. And I share my life. We talk, and laugh, drink mint tea, and I have tryed sporadically to learn Arabic.
The other aspect of this, that I have pondered, is there is one particular thing in my situation that allows and affords time for friendships. I am single. Something that can seem invigorating, full of opportunities to be devoted to God and full of interests and time to pursue them. I appreciate the "spinsterishness" of Jane Austen and Miss Potter. I admire single missionaries ladies with all my heart.
The other side of this is, of course, that I also long to get married and have a family of my own. And sometimes (especially this past weekend when over-tired and recovering from illness) this can weigh so heavy that it can blot out the good things and blessings of singleness.
So this thought has begun to crystallise in my mind these past months that time is short and precious. I need to enjoy God and the life he has given me. Right now. I pray for a godly husband almost daily but I must also must remember to pray, that I will not waste any of the blessings God has given me.
I read a new Christian book on the topic of singleness this past summer. Carolyn Leutwiler (aspiring Opera singer and administrative coordinator for Children's Ministries at Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City) has written a book published in 2008 called Singleness Redefined: Living Life to the Fullest. This is an excellent book, but one quotation within it struck me particularly.
"Sometimes life is very hard to understand and I don't believe we are meant to understand all of it or there would be no call for faith....[But] seize every moment you have and use every gift you have to love God and love your family, neighbours and friends while you can. There is no guarantee of tomorrow. Yet it is so easy to let the little,urgent yet petty details of our lives take over. We are lulled into a false sense of security that everyone and everything will be there tomorrow...Once I heard it said that life is what happens while we are making other plans. Please don't let the really important people, priorities and relationships wait in your life. Enjoy every beautiful moment that God blesses you with and praise him for it."
(letter from Phyllis Golden) page 125 Singleness Redefined:Living Life to the Fullest by Carolyn Leutwiler (2008).
Much treasure is found in "enjoying God and worshipping him forever" whether in spinsterish circumstances or not. God is full of surprising blessings and blessed surprises. May we thank him for them all.
Friday, 28 October 2011
Monday, 17 October 2011
Do the next thing and the best next thing too.
From an old English parsonage down by the sea,
There came in the twilight a message to me;
Its quaint Saxon legend, deeply engraven,
Hath, as it seems to me, teaching from heaven.
And all through the doors, the quiet words ring
Like a low inspiration, “Do the next thing.”
Many a questioning, many a fear,
Many a doubt hath its quieting here.
Moment by moment, let down from heaven,
Time, opportunity, guidance are given.
Fear not tomorrow, child of the King,
Trust that with Jesus; do the next thing.
Do it immediately, do it with prayer,
Do it reliantly, casting all care.
Do it with reverence, tracing His hand,
Who placed it before thee with earnest command.
Stayed on omnipotence, safe ‘neath His wing,
Leave all resultings; do the next thing.
Looking to Jesus, ever serener,
Working or suffering be thy demeanor,
In His dear presence, the rest of His calm,
The light of His countenance, be thy psalm.
Strong in His faithfulness, praise and sing;
Then, as He beckons thee, do the next thing.
author unknown, quoted by Elisabeth Elliot
Thank you Gretchen for this (found at http://www.littlepinkhouse.net/) but as well I was pondering the most important "next things". And that in fact "few things are needed" and these can be found at rest, (cup of tea, quiet spot) at Jesus' feet (bible, notebook and pen) listening to what he has to say.
"As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”
“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”
Luke ch 10 vs 38-42
There came in the twilight a message to me;
Its quaint Saxon legend, deeply engraven,
Hath, as it seems to me, teaching from heaven.
And all through the doors, the quiet words ring
Like a low inspiration, “Do the next thing.”
Many a questioning, many a fear,
Many a doubt hath its quieting here.
Moment by moment, let down from heaven,
Time, opportunity, guidance are given.
Fear not tomorrow, child of the King,
Trust that with Jesus; do the next thing.
Do it immediately, do it with prayer,
Do it reliantly, casting all care.
Do it with reverence, tracing His hand,
Who placed it before thee with earnest command.
Stayed on omnipotence, safe ‘neath His wing,
Leave all resultings; do the next thing.
Looking to Jesus, ever serener,
Working or suffering be thy demeanor,
In His dear presence, the rest of His calm,
The light of His countenance, be thy psalm.
Strong in His faithfulness, praise and sing;
Then, as He beckons thee, do the next thing.
author unknown, quoted by Elisabeth Elliot
Thank you Gretchen for this (found at http://www.littlepinkhouse.net/) but as well I was pondering the most important "next things". And that in fact "few things are needed" and these can be found at rest, (cup of tea, quiet spot) at Jesus' feet (bible, notebook and pen) listening to what he has to say.
"As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”
“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”
Luke ch 10 vs 38-42
Monday, 19 September 2011
Autumn leaves, new beginnings and improved thoughts.
The air has a snap now. No more balmy days. The rain and wind was tearing around on Friday shaking the windows and battering on the panes. I have taken out my brown duffel, too heavy for summer and too light for winter but just right for now, for these 2 months (or just one) of not-so-warm, not-so-cold weather. I am not a fan of snowy weather, the darkness and endless cold presses down and I sit inside almost afraid of the weather outside.
Autumn has a different flavour though - a new beginning unlike the lightening of spring but more like the start of new school year. New notebooks. New ways of thinking and for me a new job. But more of that another time. I have started reading a Bible in a Year, and started in September because starting in January nine months late is too depressing for words. So I started where I am suppose to be and have been reading Isaiah. From about ch 40.
I like Isaiah very much because it tells me that :-
God is Big.
God is Powerful.
That He Saves to the Uttermost.
That He has Plans. And He carries them through.
That we are small.
But He is Big and Awesome and Righteous.
That we are sinful.
But that He Loves and Forgives and Saves.
And when I am mired in disappointment or weariness or just plain old sin and petty-mindedness, it wakes me up, opens my eyes, renews my mind, and gives me hope. So I am enjoying these autumn days, with the need to stay warm again, and wear my brown duffel, drink hot chocolate, re-watch Little Dorrit, savour the new Jane Eyre and think of God as He actually Is.
Autumn has a different flavour though - a new beginning unlike the lightening of spring but more like the start of new school year. New notebooks. New ways of thinking and for me a new job. But more of that another time. I have started reading a Bible in a Year, and started in September because starting in January nine months late is too depressing for words. So I started where I am suppose to be and have been reading Isaiah. From about ch 40.
I like Isaiah very much because it tells me that :-
God is Big.
God is Powerful.
That He Saves to the Uttermost.
That He has Plans. And He carries them through.
That we are small.
But He is Big and Awesome and Righteous.
That we are sinful.
But that He Loves and Forgives and Saves.
And when I am mired in disappointment or weariness or just plain old sin and petty-mindedness, it wakes me up, opens my eyes, renews my mind, and gives me hope. So I am enjoying these autumn days, with the need to stay warm again, and wear my brown duffel, drink hot chocolate, re-watch Little Dorrit, savour the new Jane Eyre and think of God as He actually Is.
Friday, 16 September 2011
Remember to say Thank You.
They are trailing in happy profusion on my dining room table. White. Purple. Green. Small and pretty. Striking out. Dancing fronds. Glass vase holding them all together with water to keep them happy.
Together they say thank you. Together they make me say: "Thank you Lord- I did it. But only because you were with me helping me".
My goodbye-to-being-a-GP registrar-hello-to-being-a-GP flowers. I am on holiday at the moment but worked my last day at my training practice on Tuesday. In about 10 days, I start my new job as an Academic GP Fellow working for Aberdeen University- which consists of 4 days research and one day of GP in each week. And I am happy about it.
And I am thankful. Hopeful of the future but not because of some great success or ability on my part but because God was with me and is still with me. With me, when I complained to him that he wasn't with me, with me when I failed exams, with me when I was sick, with me when things were going well.
So these beautiful flowers say to me "Remember to say thank you".
Thursday, 15 September 2011
"Howards End is on the Landing" by Susan Hill.
I found "Howards End is on the Landing" by Susan Hill in Waterstones yesterday and what a find it is - "I decided to spend a year reading only books already on my shelves for several reasons..I sometimes wonder if the books came into this house or if the house grew around them. Either way, they feel as organic a part of it as the beams, the Aga in the kitchen, the wood burner in the sitting room, or the old pine wardrobe that arrived in half a dozen sections and had to be assembled once it was in the right bedroom."
Books are indeed the decor of my flat- I decorate with bookshelves, and adorn with second hand copies or with a beautiful-with-etching new copy. The good ones are each a little world, taking you back to where you were when you first read it (rattling through India by train to Agra reading all of Jane Austen) or taking you forward providing some new insight.
On the internet :-
"The start of my journey also coincided with my decision to curtail my use of the internet, which can have an insidious. corrosive effect. Too much internet usage fragments the brain and dissipates concentration so that after a while one's ability to spend long focussed hours immersed in a single subject becomes blunted....The internet can have a pernicious influence on reading because it is full of book-related gossip and chatter on which it is fatally easy to waste time that should be spent paying close careful attention to the books themselves, whether writing them or reading them."
She never said a truer word- and here I am writing this on Facebook. And on my blog. But some fasting needs to take place with my internet use. My powers of concentration were greater as a teenager and I do think it was the lack of television and computer use.
Susan Hill explains further:-
"Rationing it strictly gave me back more than time. Within a few days, my attention span increased again, my butter-fly brain settled down and I was able to spend longer periods concentrating on single topics, difficult long books, subjects requiring my full focus. It was like diving into a deep cool Ocean after flitting about in the shallows, Slow Reading as against Gobbling Up."
However that is only the first few gems. Our reaction to individual books is so personal - and it is heart-warming, like sitting by a fire in winter with cocoa to read of her personal and extremely well-read history and thoughts on different literature. Harry Potter and Dickens. PG Wodehouse and Enid Blyton. Poetry and Pop-Up books. She is not snobbish about literature. The only thing it needs (boring, I know) is an index and then you could look up what she thinks about every individual (and there are many) book that she mentions.
I have only just started it- but it is splendid and soothing at the same time. A September Holiday leaves-turning- brown rainy afternoon, Read, if ever there was one.
Books are indeed the decor of my flat- I decorate with bookshelves, and adorn with second hand copies or with a beautiful-with-etching new copy. The good ones are each a little world, taking you back to where you were when you first read it (rattling through India by train to Agra reading all of Jane Austen) or taking you forward providing some new insight.
On the internet :-
"The start of my journey also coincided with my decision to curtail my use of the internet, which can have an insidious. corrosive effect. Too much internet usage fragments the brain and dissipates concentration so that after a while one's ability to spend long focussed hours immersed in a single subject becomes blunted....The internet can have a pernicious influence on reading because it is full of book-related gossip and chatter on which it is fatally easy to waste time that should be spent paying close careful attention to the books themselves, whether writing them or reading them."
She never said a truer word- and here I am writing this on Facebook. And on my blog. But some fasting needs to take place with my internet use. My powers of concentration were greater as a teenager and I do think it was the lack of television and computer use.
Susan Hill explains further:-
"Rationing it strictly gave me back more than time. Within a few days, my attention span increased again, my butter-fly brain settled down and I was able to spend longer periods concentrating on single topics, difficult long books, subjects requiring my full focus. It was like diving into a deep cool Ocean after flitting about in the shallows, Slow Reading as against Gobbling Up."
However that is only the first few gems. Our reaction to individual books is so personal - and it is heart-warming, like sitting by a fire in winter with cocoa to read of her personal and extremely well-read history and thoughts on different literature. Harry Potter and Dickens. PG Wodehouse and Enid Blyton. Poetry and Pop-Up books. She is not snobbish about literature. The only thing it needs (boring, I know) is an index and then you could look up what she thinks about every individual (and there are many) book that she mentions.
I have only just started it- but it is splendid and soothing at the same time. A September Holiday leaves-turning- brown rainy afternoon, Read, if ever there was one.
Saturday, 3 September 2011
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.
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.
Friday, 2 September 2011
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.
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