Wednesday 22 February 2012

What Matters?

This is just a quick post as I grab some middle-of-the-night cereal after one of baby Amber's night feeds. She has just gone back to sleep inside my dressing gown as I type!

Amber is now 10 days old, and the sleepless nights together with the accumulating mess in the house has begun to get to me. Today I could feel depression knocking at my door, so I told my husband, Matt, who suggested I listen to a good preach to redirect my focus. During this evening's feed I turned on the telly to browse the many 'religious' channels we have access to. I tuned into a Joni programme, and was instantly grabbed by its relevance.

The programme was about suffering, and in particular, one couple's response to suffering as their child was born with an incurable genetic disorder which meant she only had a few months to live. It was heart-breaking. They celebrated and cherished each day they had with their precious baby girl, and gave her up into the Lord's hands when her brief time on earth was up. The couple responded to their circumstances with gratitude and humility, and have been an inspiration and encouragement to many through it all.

Hearing their story made me take stock of what really matters in life.  What does God care about in my current circumstances?  Is God bothered that you can't see an inch of our carpet for toys, or that you can't eat at the kitchen table without first having to clear a space in the clutter for your plate?

When my girls grow up, are they going to benefit from a tidy house, or a mother who loved them unconditionally? Are they going to see God at work in this family because the washing got done or because I modelled dependence on my loving Heavenly Father who promises to meet all my needs?

The family who lost their little girl made me realise I'm missing out on so much by looking at stuff that really doesn't matter at all.

Thursday 9 February 2012

No Shadow of Turning

I was listening to a CD while making dinner yesterday, not particularly paying attention to the music, when without me realising it, the words of the song started to make the drop from my head to my heart. 


The song went like this:


My darkness is not dark for you
My night shines as day
When I lose my way there is no shadow of turning, no shadow of turning
If I go astray you show no shadow of turning, no shadow of turning
When I feel ashamed there is no shadow of turning, no shadow of turning


                                                                         No Shadow of Turning. Kathryn Marquis.


'No shadow of turning' struck me in a new way. The words come from a verse taken from the book of James in the Bible:
Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.


It struck me that God is so consistent that He doesn't turn away from us in disappointment or disgust when we mess up or let Him down, or follow our own agenda. 
He's always facing us. 


Somehow in my heart I had been believing that God sometimes turns His face away from us.  Doesn't it feel like that when nothing is going right? When disaster strikes, and we can't see God's intervention, doesn't it feel like God has turned away? 


Conversely when we're feeling blessed and things are going great, don't we feel like we've got God's full attention?


The Bible is full of verses that tell us that God doesn't save us from trouble, but He's with us in trouble - "The righteous face many troubles but the Lord delivers them from them all". Psalm 34:19.  And yet, the hard times are still painful.


I guess it must be me who finds it hard to look God in the eye when I'm struggling, not the other way around as I had thought. Growing up in a culture that idolises success will do that to you.  Its hard to receive unconditional love when you don't feel you've done anything to deserve it. Its hard to lift your eyes when you feel lost or afraid, ashamed or frustrated because meeting His gaze will break you. Undo you. Reduce you to your knees in gratitude. It'll make us stop the striving, stop desperately trying to hold it together. 


No Shadow of Turning. I'm going to try to remember that.