Author: Adrian Clark

Snowy start to the day. One or two inches already, still snowing, and the sky has that heavy grey look about it, promising a good blanket of the white stuff. What is there about snow that excites, attracts? (At least for those who haven’t got to go out in it!). Our pet Westie loves the snow; he runs around, rolls in it, tries to grab it and generally makes his walk a bit of a trial, as though the arrival of snow flicks a naughty switch within him. Looking around, what was black and green, is now covered in white. What were red roofs have been clad in a different product as though made from cotton wool. What was vividly coloured has now become strangely monochrome, with just the odd splash of colour from car lights. All the defects in the world seem to disappear for a short time. New LED street lamps accentuate the whiteness, the comforting orange glare of yesterday’s technology now a thing of the past. The school walking bus, children in their hi-vis waistcoats, chattering with excitement, snowballs abounding (though not in the direction of the teacher, “They have been warned, well-warned”, she told me). Looking around, the sheep have become very dirty all of a sudden; their wool, that was considered white yesterday, now appears a muddy creamy brown. They’re not concerned though, still grubbing away. Hardy animals! Traffic gingerly picks its way through and around icy ruts in the road, trying to get on with work-a-day life.

Snow covers, transforms, makes the world around us a different place. I was reminded of the verse in 1Peter 4:8, “Most important of all, continue to show deep love for each other, for love covers a multitude of sins.” Without love we look at others harshly, critically, judgmentally, spitefully, in a way that destroys and tears down. But covering others with love is like applying a blanket of snow. It will totally transform the way we see them. It will cover over the defects. So whatever looked black, dirty, unwelcoming, and offensive, instead becomes white and soft, fresh and covered over. What was challenging behaviour somehow doesn’t seem to matter anymore. Out of corruption comes life. Broken relationships are restored.

The other verse I was reminded of is in Isaiah 1:18, “Come now, let’s settle this,” says the LORD. “Though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them as white as snow.”  Jesus brings forgiveness, and, coupled with love, the two make an unbeatable combination. There is nothing that can stand in the way of that!

Anyway, it has stopped snowing. Roads seem clear, so can’t delay the shopping trip anymore.

Over the hills to the North and East, a strangely peaceful blend of pinks and peaches tint the underside of the clouds. The January morning temperature is hovering around one or two degrees but the coldness in the air is brisk and refreshing, reminding the occupants of this semi-rural suburbia in western Fife, that overnight there has been a scrubbing away of yesterday’s dirt and grime, and highlighting God’s grace, that His mercies are new every morning. A loose and straggly “V” of wild geese honk and squeak their way overhead, presumably flapping their way towards new pastures in the centre of Fife, to the North East. On the main road through the village, chilly puffs of air from the East accentuate the coldness. A bigger than usual waft stirs a discarded Coke can into motion, the clanking and scraping disturbing the otherwise quiet and peaceful ambience. Further along, the Bluther Burn bubbles its way towards the Forth Estuary, but still with a few miles to go.

I walk this way many times, but this morning the usual became unusual, and the mundaneness became new and fresh, as though an extra dimension to the world had suddenly appeared, starkly emphasising the vibrancy in creation. A reminder to me that I have choices I can make in this Pilgrim’s Land. I can trudge along, ruing the injustices of life, or I can stand with the Psalmist (Psalm 121), lifting my eyes up, straining for all that God has for me.

I look up to the mountains—

does my help come from there?

My help comes from the LORD,

who made heaven and earth!

He will not let you stumble;

the one who watches over you will not slumber.

Indeed, he who watches over Israel

never slumbers or sleeps.

The LORD himself watches over you!

The LORD stands beside you as your protective shade.

The sun will not harm you by day,

nor the moon at night.

The LORD keeps you from all harm

and watches over your life.

The LORD keeps watch over you as you come and go,

both now and forever.

This was my Dad’s favourite Psalm. He never talked much about his Christian faith, but he had a depth within him that sustained him through some horrendous times, in his war service and life in general. So I commit today’s blog to his memory.

“Seasick Steve” – a musician and singer in the Blues genre. Now in his late 70’s he has a genius for making strange looking guitars out of hub caps or cigar boxes, and often with an odd number of strings, and playing them, slide-manner, with a bottle neck. I can hear you yawning already and thinking where is he going today. Well, one of his recent popular songs is entitled, “I started out with nothin’, and I still got most of it left”. A title that probably sums up his life, which wasn’t easy, from all accounts. But, spiritually, we all started out with nothing. And then there came a point when an encounter with Jesus  catapulted us into a new world, where we can sing a new song, “I started out with nothin’, but I now have none of it left.” Because in Jesus we have everything. We can sing a new song, and it won’t be in the Blues genre either. Psalm 96:1 “Sing a new song to the LORD! Let the whole earth sing to the LORD!”.  But, sadly, there are many who are taking the wrong path. In Matthew 7:13 we read, “The highway to hell is broad, and its gate is wide enough for all the multitudes who choose its easy way.” And they will all get there singing Steve’s song, only the lyrics will change to “I started out with nothin’, and I still got all of it left”.

Oh, and for those sad people like me (and my switched-on grandson) who enjoy a song or two from Steve, here’s a YouTube link to the above song.

Seasick Steve— LIVE ON LATER WITH JOOLS  – I STARTED OUT WITH NOTHIN’

I Peter 5:7 Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you.

“Mental health” mentioned in the news again today. In fact, hardly a day passes without some reference in the media to the general lack of mental well-being in our society. This is far too big and controversial a subject to cover in a blog. I’m not qualified to give an opinion in any case. But the people in the Bible were no strangers to mental health issues – it’s not just a modern problem. The story of Elijah in 1 Kings 19 comes to mind; even someone in his position and relationship with God was not exempt from depression. Jesus Himself mentioned anxiety and worry in Matthew 6.

But as I was thinking and praying about one or two people this morning who do suffer from depression, I felt God pop the word “compassion” into my mind. I need to have a Godly compassion for those I know who are struggling with mental health issues. Issues perhaps caused by bereavement, fear of redundancy, physical complaints, family matters – the stresses and strains of life. But communication with someone suffering from mental health issues often isn’t easy. By its very nature, anything that affects our thinking processes will impact not only how we feel but how we interact with others.

God sent an angel to minister to Elijah’s physical needs, and we have many “angels” in our medical services who do likewise.  But for those around us suffering from the anxieties of modern life, to the extent that their mental health is suffering, we need to lead them prayerfully and compassionately to the One Who heals all our sicknesses. Because He cares for us.

Isaiah 43:19  “For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?”

A news item yesterday happened to detail some research about resolutions. Two quotes from it: “…the best resolutions are the ones that achieve a chunk of a longer-term plan you have for yourself, rather than those that are vague and aspirational…To keep a resolution, you have to be boringly meticulous – you have to plan.” Another quote that I used a lot in my working life was, “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” Planning is an important part of life, particularly when you want to change what you are doing. I once heard a sermon entitled, “If you keep on doing what you have always done, then you will keep on getting what you’ve always got.” I don’t remember the content of the sermon, but I certainly remember the strapline!

I finished my last blog with a personal challenge – that I want to know God more. Isaiah 43 starts with a loving and impassioned plea from God, directed at His people Israel, detailing all that he had done for them, and was still willing to do. Then He says in verse 22, “But…you refuse to ask for My help.” And that’s the crux of the matter. The paradox is that I will never keep to a plan of getting to know God more unless I ask for His help in the process of planning. So I pray that prayer this morning, believing that He will faithfully answer.

Jeremiah 29:11  “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

On this the last day of 2017, my thoughts have turned to the New Year, 2018. The news channels exhort us to set “New Year Resolutions”, usually to eat and drink less and exercise more. The column writers and so called experts try and predict the future and tell us what will happen in 2018, both good and bad things, but mostly bad. So if I want encouragement for next year, I won’t find it in the papers! Far better for me to read the “Good News” contained in God’s Holy Book.

But in the well-worn and popular  text above  God made a breath-taking statement – He knows all about my future, and it is Good News! He is going to see me prosper. I have a hope and a future. And that applies also to my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. Far better to end this year on that note, than dwelling on gloomy predictions of Brexit, squabbling politicians, global insecurities, and so on.

But what about “New Year Resolutions”? If there is Someone who has set out plans for me, I need to take notice. Who is this Person? I probably know more about Him, than know Him personally. So that’s my goal for 2018 – as the first line from the song “Simple Gospel” says’ “I want to know You, Lord, like I know a friend.” How will I do that? By spending more time with Him – not rocket science is it?

The Child in a manger. Sentimental Christmas cards and nativity scenes showing a sanitised environment. No poo in sight. Just a manger with some straw, a Child much older than new born, with a strange golden glow around His head, His father holding a crooked staff, and His mother kneeling at the side of the crib. There might be a cow or two and perhaps a sheep or a donkey in the shadows at the back. And above the stable is a bright star. A well-worn picture in our minds.

But whatever the reality of  Jesus’s birth, I have been challenged afresh about Who that Child in the manger really is. God incarnate. GOD INCARNATE!  Jesus could have come in many different ways and forms. But why a human baby?  So that right from the point of conception He could share our humanity, grow up like we did, facing the same issues that we do, showing us the way to eternal life. “For God so loved the world that he gave…”. No other entrance into our fallen world would have worked in God’s wonderful plan.

But what do we do about the Child in the manger? This divine Baby? We can’t just leave Him there, perhaps in a cupboard waiting for next year. Or in the recycling bin. We have to take Him out of the manger and place Him in our lives, our hearts, our families, our churches. And let Him grow within us, so that we get to know Him in a truly personal way. In the coming year, in the words of the 13th Century prayer, I want to “…see Christ more clearly, love him more dearly, and follow him more nearly”. Day by day.

Romans 12:15 (AMP). Rejoice with those who rejoice [sharing others’ joy], and weep with those who weep [sharing others’ grief].

A dear couple I know are grieving because of the loss of their daughter.  But sitting here this morning, I have this feeling of compassionate helplessness, feeling a little of the pain they must be experiencing, remembering our own daughter’s illness.  In those dark days twenty nine years ago, when the prognosis had no hope, when daily crises sapped our strength, we grieved. Grieving because there was no hope in the prognosis. Mentally preparing ourselves as we were locked into the slow downward progression of our daughter’s disease. And at my desk at work I tried to put the gravity of the situation to one side but it was never far away. The pain was always close by. I used to try and find a quiet place, where I could cry out quietly in my spirit to God. For comfort. For strength. For healing for my daughter. I rattled the gates of heaven in my desperation. No, she wasn’t instantly healed – that came much later. But His grace and love flowed without limit. He came through for me. Oh, how He came through for me! No – He didn’t take away the pain, but He gave me the resources I needed for the moment. And a peace for my soul.
I will keep praying for my friends, that His grace and love will be there for them as well. No, the pain won’t leave them, but the Holy Spirit will be there, whispering in their ears, “I’m here for you and I love you.”

Luke 11:43. When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!”

The story of Lazarus, his demise, and resurrection, is recorded in the Gospels. Lazarus was the brother of Mary and Martha, a family living in Bethany near Jerusalem. They were friends of Jesus and He seemed to spend time there to “chill out”. So when Lazarus took sick, naturally his sisters called to Jesus for help. But He didn’t rush back to Bethany and instead carried on ministering where He was, for a further two days. But in the end, Jesus returned and was overcome with the sorrow and grief of the occasion, to the point that He wept (Luke 11:35).  Jesus asked to visit the grave, and at the tomb where Lazarus had been placed four days earlier, He commanded that the stone sealing the tomb was removed. There was a crowd of Jews there – the family was obviously well regarded in the local community – who were comforting the family in their grief. You can only speculate about what they were thinking, because it was unheard of to remove a gravestone in that climate so soon after a burial. Martha, the practical sister, explained, “By this time there is a bad odour.”  But they removed the stone anyway, and Jesus then commanded Lazarus to vacate the tomb – but you know the rest of the story.

But a bit of speculation – please indulge me. There was this man, Lazarus, taken ill with a disease or some other condition that led to his death quite quickly. Just imagine the sequence of events. Perhaps a fever incapacitated him, and he took to his bed. You can imagine his sisters sitting at his bed side, telling him of their love, communicating their concerns, holding his hand, but becoming more and more worried. And Lazarus, weakly battling the ravages of infection, would be lapsing into incoherency, his thoughts all a-jumble, in and out of lucidity, until he falls asleep for the last time. He would have had no idea of the outpouring of grief, the funeral arrangements, the burial. His body dead, but his spirit alive as it transitioned to a resurrected eternity. But then he heard Jesus calling his name! He would have remembered the illness, the lapsing into blackness, as a new life burst into his being, commanded by his Friend and Master. I wonder what he was thinking as he hobbled towards the tomb entrance wrapped up in a mixture of grave clothes and spices!

And now a bit of spiritual extrapolation. I don’t believe Lazarus was singled out by God for special treatment just for Jesus to make a miraculous point to confound the Jewish leaders present there, though I’m sure that was in the plan somewhere. I choose to believe that when I cross the “great divide” my next conscious thought will be Jesus calling my name. “Adrian!” How amazing is that! So if you haven’t yet put your trust in Jesus, don’t leave it too late. One day He can call your name as well.

Our world is scattered with lists of names. On Cenotaphs, war memorials, gravestones, church plaques, memorials, and so on. But such references apply to the dead, to men and women (and sadly some children) who have crossed over the divide between this world and the next. Some in a worthy way, having given their lives for their countries or other good causes. Some through acute sickness or old age. Some heading for Heaven; others … And occasionally the name of a worthy person, such as a sportsperson, celebrity or such will appear in public print. They had a moment of earthly glory, winning a race or competition, acting in a film or play, with their name appearing on a cup, plaque, notice board or plaudits in a film or newspaper. But such a moment fades into the past, and future generations wonder who it was that the name represented, if they can be bothered at all.

But I have been intrigued during my Christian life, of the Scripture in Isaiah 49:16, “See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands…”. I know that in context this is referring to Jerusalem, but as a member of God’s Church, it applies today. To me, as a child of God. Me! So my name is indelibly tattooed on the palms of God’s hands, along with countless numbers of my brothers and sisters in Christ. But why His palms? Why not somewhere else, perhaps His forehead, or sleeve? To me my palm is something used for touching, encouraging, communicating love and caring, perhaps direction. So there’s something significant about where our names are written. Over the years I have been greatly blessed and encouraged by the application of God’s hands. By His touch.

The second thought that struck me is that all earthly recording of names refers, sooner or later, to the dead. But I believe my name, engraved on God’s hand, is there forever. God is the God of the living not the dead! So when I cross over the great divide, my name will still be written on His hand, not as a memorial to a past life, but as a member and active participant in His kingdom. Is that stretching faith too far? I don’t think so. After all, as a child of God, He’s not going to abandon me. It’s against His nature. But face to face with Him in heaven? I don’t think reading my name on His palm will be necessary!