prayer for peace

Lord, we entreat you to bring our nations back to God.

Break in on the madness of our violence against each other.  Bring to nought the machinations of men who plot to take what isn't theirs, and inflict their ferocious oppression on those who have no power. Breathe a new heart into those who live with revenge as their moral compass.  Raise up strong souls who will speak and act for peace. Protect the innocent;  shackle malice;  overcome evil with good.

We beseech you to intrude upon our greed;  disentangle us from our consumerism with your example of simplicity.  Temper our prejudices with your compassion. Have governance over those who prey on others.

Bless those burnt by the hypocrisy and carelessness of the organised church.  Heal those who have been abused in any way. Cajole those who have abandoned their faith, back to a rich knowledge of your Presence.

We ask you to renew those who are world-weary with refreshment and strength.  Give a renewed thirst for wholesomeness, to  those who have allowed the weeds of unholy living to choke their happiness.  Help those who battle with depression and anxiety. 

Be ever present with our secular leaders so they never go too far into bad practice or oppressive purpose.

Bless us, your authentic people as we all walk our own journeys.  Give us always, across and between our different traditions, a unity in You, as the body of Christ.

Shine on our darkness;  encourage our holiness, authenticate our witness with our resolve to live your precepts, so that our lives will light the way to faith, for those who have no hope. 

We invite you to share all our grief and mitigate our sorry with your peace. 

The Winsomeness of Passion

One of the things I enjoy most as the varied tide of humanity streams through my life, is the particular colour, people who are passionate about something, bring.  It might be gardening, or golf, or good grief, it might be football!

Let me share with you a gentleman of my acquaintance who has enriched my life with the expression of his particular fixation.  The name has been changed to protect the innocent.  I’ve called him Bill.

Bill is a man who calls a spade a spade. Some might say he is bombastic;  his firmly-held opinions are delivered with force and finality. But this barge-like manner is tempered by a deeply ingrained cheerfulness and goodwill.  I prefer to call his personality robust.

This rather large personality is housed in a short, rotund little physique, which has a very round face, black hair and  glasses.  When Bill smiles, it makes beguiling dimples in his rosy cheeks. Bill is rather fond of his homemade brew (another of his passions), which gives him a large tummy, or,  as my father called it, a “brewer’s goitre”. Over this vast  expanse are stretched black braces,  the better to hold up his pants.

Bill’s passion is pigeon racing. I find myself, after the service one Sunday morning, standing next to him in the queue for morning tea.  So, there we are shuffling towards the morning tea table.  “How are your pigeons going Bill”  I ask.  Bill’s response is immediate.  (His language occasionally veers away from the straight and narrow of the ladies-coffee-morning standard, and sets foot in the boys-at-the-pub-on-a-Saturday-arvo level) “Well bugger me if I didn’t loose one to a hawk yesterdee”.  This is delivered at full forte volume and those around blink and turn their heads, as they are also bombarded with this disappointing news.  “No sooner out of the box, she was, and a blanky hawk came from no-where and got ‘er”.  “What a shame”  says I, all concern and nodding sympathy.  With a little more gentle inquiry from me, his voice takes on a more instructional  tone.  He shifts his weight on to both his feet, spacing them slightly apart as he does so. His hands come out of his pockets and he folds them across his body, head slightly dropped,  he becomes the tutor, the teacher, the expert caught up in a subject he loves.   “You’ve got you’re racing stock,  then you’ve got your breeding cocks and broody hens.  Then I’ve got a few youngsters still getting used to flying with the mob”  (shouldn’t that be ‘flock’, but I didn’t say it!). His little black eyes, inscribed with intensity, bore into mine  as he launches into the finer points on housing, diet, breeding and of course, racing.  I am as much transfixed by his passion for it, as I am by the actual facts.

His unique sense of humour also displays this bombastic quality.  Bill is never content with a little twitter or a giggle.  Not for him the polite, gentle chuckle. When he finds something funny, and he frequently does, he twinkles up at me over his glasses, his face splits into an endearing grin (he also has a dieresis) , then he applies himself to a sonorous, booming belly laugh, during which his tummy shakes gently.  

Bill’s other passion is home brew.  He can give you the low down on the best brands for different flavour or keeping quality.  His knowledge  about ingredients, bottling techniques, storage time, is extensive.  He can tell you which brand most tastes like Victoria Bitter…. And that’s something I was dying to know.   His laundry is full of the paraphernalia of home brewing, and he loves it.  Once, at a Parish Council meeting, we were discussing the family camp and Anne was giving a run down on the facilities of the venue.  Bill asks, with just a hint of anxiety, “What are the refrigeration facilities like Anne?”  “Oh, quite adequate”  she replies breezily.  “Oh good” says Bill, relieved, “because…  you know” (his voice takes on quite a wistful quality) “I was thinking about how I’d get the home brew chilled”. 

Then, further along in the meeting the accommodation facilities are discussed “It’s dormitory style” says Anne, “but there’s room to put all the adolescent boys in together, with perhaps an adult to supervise”.  The full regalia of his personality comes into force now.  “ What?!” he shouts, “Sleep in with that noisy lot? – I’m blowed if I’ll do it!”. 

But you know, for all his rampaging, bombastic personality, I cannot find it in my heart to censor him.  He is an unfailingly honest man in every way.  No pretense;  no shuttered secrets or veiled malice. There is nothing snide or sneaky about Bill. What you see is what he is.  And goodness knows, the world needs more of that. 

In conclusion then, what a joy it is for me to run across these people.  Could I encourage you to keep an eye out for them too.  Look with fresh eyes on the people of your circle.  You might just find an enriching and delightful example of all the complex, eccentric, wonderful tapestry which is the essence of the common man.

Time heals

I got a message on my voicemail that my Doctor wanted to see me.  I had done a bowel screen test about 6 weeks ago, and, because I didn’t know why she wanted to see me, I jumped to the conclusion that something must be wrong, either from the results of the bowel screen or the blood test I had for kidney function, about the same time.

When you’ve had quite a bit of bad stuff in your life, it’s very easy to think the worst will happen, because you’ve experienced the worst before.  You know awful stuff can happen.

I didn’t have a lot of time to get worried or upset about the Doctor;  I made the appointment yesterday and I saw her this morning. Nevertheless, I could feel myself start to think “what if this is serious illness looming?”.  I had lots of depressed, resentful thoughts, and I wasn’t sure I would be able to face serious illness, and all the negative emotions which would accompany it.  I shouldn’t have worried – she just wanted to do a review of all my meds.  The bowel screen was negative and the kidney function was fine.

It struck me today, when I was thanking God that nothing serious was wrong – I suppose if there WAS something serious, I would have eventually thanked Him for that too (give thanks in all circumstances)…. Anyway, I thought that time is a very valuable healer.  I am able to much more easily throw off negative thoughts because I am further away from the traumas of 2006.  I feel stronger now than I did then.  When you are in the thick of pain or suffering or anxiety, you don’t have the same “choice” to throw off negativity and stay afloat.  It’s harder to do, because the thoughts are darker, more intense, stronger and come more often. You are living in a stressful arena, coping with anxiety and pain from many fronts, whereas when the trauma or cause of the anxiety has passed, time begins to heal and gradually, as you face what’s happened, the positives begin to expel the negatives.

So now, in the last 6 months or so, I feel like my life’s arena is a brighter place – my brain chemicals are much recovered since the death of my son, Ben.  It’s been a gradual process, but negative and sad thoughts are the exception now, where once they were the rule.  There was quite a sustained period in my life, after my divorce, when positives were the exception and I had to deliberately think of them.  They didn’t reveal themselves – I had to search for them and it was only after Ben’s death that I realized this, and resolved to find the positives, even in his death.

I used to feel like my life was a page with my story written on it and great ink blots of terrible things were creeping down over it, obliterating all the good stuff.  Even before Ben's death, my life had been fairly difficult year in, year-out, for many years.

When I look back over the nearly 7 years since my son’s death, I can see the healing which has taken place.  Some things, like regret, disappointment, abuse etc, are things you have to actively try and heal by facing them, forgiving people, shouting them at God, even.  But grief is something which just has to be walked, a day at a time. In my case there was not a lot of other stuff (like a broken or dysfunctional relationship with Ben) to deal with.  So, as I met and touched the great chasm Ben’s death left in my life, there was a gradual climbing up the cliff of grief.   I can see that I’m much closer to the top now and can see over the other side. I have more capacity for joy now and am learning again to look forward with anticipation, to simple enjoyments. 

I will always be well acquainted with how precarious life is and how bad stuff can happen to me, and that brings it’s own price;  if I’m not careful I can easily imagine the worst possible scenario in any situation - as in the trip to the Doctor – it IS easy to imagine that life might deal me another body blow. It’s a sort of “mended frailty”;  wounds, newly healed can be broken open more easily.

But in general, I have a happier outlook and that’s because the wound and grief of losing Ben, the terrible bullying and the ill health that all happened at the same time, in 2006, has healed a lot.

It’s helped a lot to let go of all the bitterness I felt at my bad marriage and divorce.  It was such a long process – years and years of feeling so impacted;  so bitter.  I can hardly bear to think about what a struggle it was to overcome the grief of it. If I’d kept clinging to those thoughts of loss and injustice and resentment (anger, really), I would have still been so unhappy now.  I suppose a positive outcome of it was that when Ben died, I knew I didn’t want to go down that anger/self-pity pathway again, and resolved not to.  (How I did that is for another blog).

Time heals. It really does. But you have to give it the right environment.

Can we prove God's existence?

Some years ago, on a summer evening, I watched a car pull up outside my house.  It was a fairly old Datsun or Mitsubishi or something of that ilk. A gentleman got out and began to search the area of my nature strip.  He was obviously looking for something. I’d found a small dog’s collar the week before when I was mowing and had put it on top of the fence in case someone came for it.  I went out to speak to him and tell him where it was

He was about 15 years older than me, with fairish hair, thin build and a beard; tidily dressed with clean shirt and pressed dark trousers.  He looked up when, across the fence I asked him if he was looking for his little dog’s collar, so I was able to retrieve it from the fence top and hand it to him.   

What struck me most about him was his ordinariness; an inhabitant of the planet who was, essentially, of the same stuff as me – probably not famous, no status, high school education, driving an old car. I thought it curious that he would bother to come back to look for the collar at all;  it was, after all, a flimsy thing, inexpensively replaced.  Perhaps it was of sentimental value, but I suspected that, like me, he would rather find the lost item, than have to buy another.

He looked like a nice man;  his face, as do our own faces, showed the outward evidence of the journey his life and his thoughts had taken him. 

I only spoke to him for a few minutes, but in those brief moments, I felt God’s spirit reach out to him through me, and I prayed that joy and blessing would alight from God’s heart and rest on his head.  As he drove away, I asked God to follow him through his life.  Maybe it sounds big-headed of me to think that God’s love should pass through me to him, but that’s what happens sometimes.  It’s something I experience, not as an emotional high, or an extroverted, visible, exciting experience.  I can’t recall a single time this has happened, when I have even said anything to the other person about God.  It is like God’s love passes from Him, through my presence with the person, to them. It is a gentle, unobtrusive thing. I think they experience it too, but perhaps are not always sure what it is or how it happens.

I went inside and started the washing up.  The Saturday night programme on ABC Classic fm was just beginning and music by an American/German composer was on offer. His name was Franz Waxman and I’d never heard of him, though he wrote a lot of music for films, including the theme music from the 1957 film “Peyton Place”  This music is quiet and calming.  It has a gentle melody which keeps returning as the theme through the whole piece.  The link at the bottom of this blog only goes for a few minutes and holds the main tune/theme but the whole piece goes for about half an hour.

I finished the washing up, pulled a chair to the back door and sat there in the fading light, the better to watch the flaming sky and the cooling dusk settle on my garden.  I listened and pondered.  This was a time when my life was a bit of a lonely, unrelenting grind.  There was always a waiting weariness; always too much call on my inadequate and depleted resources.  The tank was always full of care, frugal living and hard work, and sometimes a tiny leaf of bad luck or the sting of unkind words would fall on the lapping cistern and I would spill over into self-pity or depression.  I sometimes doubted God’s provision for me and felt disillusioned about my faith in Him to guide, protect and help me.

But as I sat there, for a few moments letting the music wash over me with its gentle cadence, I thought about the ordinary, un-wealthy man and of the way God’s spirit had risen in me and flowed to him.  It’s witness spoke to my trudging faith and I knew afresh that God is love and that God is good.  I know this because His Spirit is an active, living thing in me.  It is experiential, not intellectual;  it is, as described in Romans 8:10 & 11, a result of inviting Christ to be part of my life;  allowing His spirit to dwell in me.

This calling down of blessing is not like some emotional outpouring of prayer about someone I care about, because I didn’t know the man.  I had no connection to him;  no reason to feel anything at all for him..  I could not possibly, from the scant reserves of my own storehouse, invoke joy and goodness to another’s life.  Such things come only from God.  They are his gifts to us.  Every day, they flow from the great ocean of God’s character through us, to the streams of our lives and society, refilling the rock pools of our sorrows with His living, healing stream.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S6i90ha-890

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans%208:10-11&version=NIVUK

A prayer for healing

We pray for others:

Lord, we ask you to heal those whose lives have been blighted by abuse, treachery or trauma of any kind.  Weave your love around those who are depressed. Breathe your calm to those who are anxious.

Bless those whose unholy practices have led them to a life marked by wretchedness, addiction or impiety.

Dismantle those huge empires whose god is profit;  break down their mechanisms of control;  release from their untempered greed, those they oppress.

Shackle those for whom violence is a way of life;  disconnect them from each other; bring to nothing their mechanism of savagery;   disempower them.  Bless and rescue those they oppress.  Shore up resilient people who will withstand their abuse and build strong communities, in place of shattered ones.

We pray for ourselves: help us to connect with each other with encouragement, caring and mutual belief.  Inhabit our loneliness;  dispel our fears;  nurture our love. Be our vision and kindle our faith. Mend our brokenness; confront our prejudices;  temper our affluence;  teach us to pray.

Our love of convenience and our affluence make us extravagant with the resources of your earth.  Give us the will to change our habits and appetites.

The edict to be holy is difficult for us. Our resentments and wrong attitudes get in the way, and scuttle our holiness.  We give them up to your power.

Lord, sometimes the stones of our self-pity weigh us down.  We give you our hurts and ask you to heal us.

Sometimes the travesty of injustice stings us.  Give us your strength and resilience to bear it with joy.

In the lure of temptation, give us power to overcome.

Lord, you roll our frailty back and forth through the rocks of trial and disappointment until we are gleaned to usefulness and holiness.  Give us the spirit of endurance and thankfulness.

We are your faithful people;  keep us pure.  Bless us daily with the light of your countenance and the blessing of your peace.  Make us a blessing to others.

Keep us listening to the still, small voice.
 

Thank you for your generosity to us in providing so much for our health and enrichment. Thank you for those who love us. Thank you for rain and stars and steadfast moon;  for music and books;  for education;  for good incomes.  For parents who did their best.  Thank you for food and fresh water. We lift our faces to your benevolence Oh God, then turn to share it with those who do not have as much.

We pray these gathered prayers in the name of Jesus, whose name is above every name; whose power is above all others; whose face beholds God’s face; whose word commands the angels and whose light will never be extinguished. Amen

Please feel free to use this prayer publicly but please acknowledge that I wrote it :)