1) Love God. 2) Love People.

'One of their religion scholars spoke for them, posing a question they hoped would show him up: “Teacher, which command in God’s Law is the most important?”
Jesus said, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence.’ This is the most important, the first on any list. But there is a second to set alongside it: ‘Love others as well as you love yourself.’ These two commands are pegs; everything in God’s Law and the Prophets hangs from them.” (Matt 22:37-40)

Two commands.  Two pegs.  Everything hangs from them.  That's all. 

Two things have got right up my nose this week:

This little book was found by one of my loveliest friends on a park bench in Sidmouth, our home town. 

H and I worked together for twelve years.  We talked, laughed, got angry about stuff, dreamed big dreams, acted daft, listened to each other, swore a bit, talked about God now and again, and laughed a lot more. 

Five years on, we no longer see each other every day, but we're friends.  Definitely.  We love each other.

I love God.  I love H.  She doesn't love God.  She loves me.  That's all.

I suppose that whoever left that book on an empty park bench thought it was a loving thing to do.  I don't agree.  I think they'd be better off joining an evening class or a club and making some friends; people they can talk to, listen to, laugh and cry with... and talk about God with now and again too. 

I want so much for my friends to know how madly, passionately, fiercely God loves them!  He loves them.  It's good news. 

The scriptures are a huge, sweeping picture of God's intense, redeeming, costly love for his world, painted with a massive brush.  Sneaking into a park when no-one is looking to leave scary bible sound-bites for unsuspecting 'heathens' to find really gets my goat. 

Love God.  Love People.  Everything hangs on those two pegs. 

I don't really want to talk about the second thing... but it's a bit like the first thing.  That's all.

Let's pray peeps

That's how Goodreach began our prayer time yesterday evening: "Let's pray peeps".

He prayed for us to be changed by this trip, that God's miracle working power would enable us to act on what we've seen and experienced here in Kenya. Beth encouraged us to wait on God, to open up to his Holy Spirit. As we sang "there's an army rising up..." God moved.

We've seen God at work in the slums of Kibera and Mathare. We've met children with no sight but profound vision. We've encountered joy, hope, faith, breathtaking gratitude and love in dire poverty; light piercing the darkness.

When we arrived in Mathare, a small girl, probably aged about five, led a group of bigger children hand in hand, snaking around the dirt 'playground' of the slum. She held her head high as she sang. The others followed her lead, moving with the music, stepping to the pulse, the beat of their song.

God's kingdom is near... and each one of us has a part to play in bringing it in, a unique gift to share, a different and beautiful thread to weave into the picture.

He chooses to work through our hands, our feet, our voices, our dreams and visions. He is our unity. He transforms us from a random bunch of do gooders into a radical, upside down army. His is the back to front rEVOLution creation is groaning for.

Let's move together in the kingdom's rhythm. Let's step to the pulse, the heartbeat of God.

Let's pray peeps.

Kenyan friends

Gentle, kind people with beautiful smiles, warm handshakes and generous hearts. Men with God in their eyes, unafraid to put an arm around a young muzungu lad.

A people who consider themselves our harvest, and cry out for the Spirit of God to bring revival in our land.

People who live lives generous in every way, that shine with the goodness, the kindness, the love of Jesus. Women and men who like nothing better than playing football with young lads from the slums, laughing and singing with giggling girls who've been given a fresh hope, or persuading a disabled child of his immense value and worth.

Softly spoken, inspiring, loving, prayerful friends. True brothers and sisters in Christ.

The Mother of all mothers

It's Mothers' Day today and, apart from the beautiful flowers and cards from our children, not too different in our household from other Sundays.  Mick cooked as usual and his mum shared lunch with us.  I'm spoilt!
 
Before I became a mother myself I found it a difficult day, especially as a child.  I used to be embarrassed for the girls at school who asked me what I was getting for my mum, forgetting I didn't have one.  But, of course, I did have a mother once, and a very good one at that.  I thank God for her love, her care, her wisdom, her kindness and humour, her faith and her prayers for my brothers and me.

 

 This is my mother with her father on the day she married my dad.  I love her expression.  She looks full to bursting - and her dapper dad looks so proud of his daughter!
 
When I look at this photo and think of my mother, I still cry for the relationship I've lost.  I can't imagine what it would be like to have a mum after forty two years without one, but I would love life to have played out differently.  I would love to have seen Mum holding my children; watched her growing to love my husband.  And there are so many questions I'd like to ask and conversations I'd like to have with her... a hug would be good too.

Once, a dozen or so years ago, when I was overwhelmed with longing for Mum, out of the blue, I suddenly experienced the deepest sense of peace I'd ever felt.  It was a deep, velvety, dark, quiet, still peace like no other.

Mostly though, I don't cry over my motherless state, after all it's quite ordinary when you're 55... and having my own grown-up children to hug brings its own, special healing.

I know I'll see my mum again one day, and maybe my tears are partly wrapped up in a longing for that day too.  I like the idea that, as time is firmly attached to the days and nights of this world, heaven is outside time.  That means in some sense I'm already there, singing, dancing and laughing with both my parents.  I like that.

That day will bring my ultimate healing.  When I see God face to face, the God who met me out of the blue as a Mother of all mothers and Father of all fathers, the longing will be over. 

Can you see what is is yet?

I've had an amazing, roller coaster of a day today. Mick bought me some pastels for Christmas and I booked into a class to learn how to use them. I have a hang up about knowing the 'right' way of going about these things. I find it really difficult to let go and just DO it!

First though, I met for coffee with my lovely friend Julie. We spoke about kindling. How it's no good having logs for your fire but no kindling. How kindling needs to be gathered together. How it doesn't even know it's kindling until its gathered together!

So that's the plan... gather the people with a sparky, prayerful heart together and get the bellows going. Then we can think about heaving some lovely great logs on to sustain and build the blaze.

We spoke about the amazing ways God has answered our prayers over the years. Sometimes we haven't noticed the little steps along the way and it's just in looking back that we see them.

Building my picture up today felt scary. I was surprised to feel quite vulnerable and exposed in having to make marks on paper without understanding what I was doing.

I didn't 'get' what the teacher was saying. I couldn't see what she meant, but did it anyway. I really wanted to do this thing, learn how it worked, but I wanted to know first rather than find out by doing it. I had a bit of a tussle with myself!

Trusting the Rabbi can be like that too.

I got more and more excited as my painting began to take shape. Julie and I had a lovely sense of beginning to see the picture coming through today too, but our journey's been - and still is - long and winding.

There's enormous value in walking that road. Scary though.

A Moment of Epiphany

Epiphany : (Koine Greek: ἐπιφάνεια, epiphaneia, "manifestation", "striking appearance"[1]) or Theophany[2] (Ancient Greek (ἡ) Θεοφάνεια, Τheophaneia meaning "vision of God"[3]), which traditionally falls on January 6.

Just after 9am this morning there was a ring on the bell. Still in my dressing gown, I opened it to find a young girl holding out a small package. "Happy Epiphany! My mum told me to give you this."

Victoria's grandparents live a few doors up from us and she lives a few doors down. Her Spanish mum made this beautiful, traditional Kings Bread to remember and celebrate the meeting of the magi with Jesus in Bethlehem.

It was a beautiful gift; a wonderful epiphany. It spoke to me of the nature of God and the beautiful things he is doing in the community I am part of. Bread - yeast - fruit - gift - obedience - generosity - kindness - blessing - all wrapped up and given by a child. Perfect.