the adventures of retirement
Walked further this morning than I’ve done for nearly two weeks – the knee is improving. There’s still some evidence of the run of storms a couple of weekends ago. But it’s better underfoot than it’s been for a while.
I didn’t come across any deer, but did hear a curlew.
War is sad and terrifying and if a powerful enough person deems it necessary, it seems to become necessary. God forgive us all.
Easing back into walking again after knee damage. Feeling more like it now, with a handy knee support.
We repent in dust and ashes,
in rubble and tears,
in a world of pain,
all the harm that happened
on our generation’s watch.
God, have mercy on us all:
bring us the beginning
of a flicker
of hope.
Happy daffodils and pancakes to everyone.
We are about to enter Lent. Will you give something up? Or will you simply remember – remember Jesus, remember what a terrifying and painful place we have made the world into, ask for a new chance?
Back home now after modest travels, and wishing I’d taken a camera for this…
Just seen some blossom. There’s not much yet nearer home.
Meanwhile, the world’s pain mounts.
God give healing, peace and justice.
Next Sunday’s lectionary features Jesus’ temptation.
He had gone to a lonely place to try and discover what his ministry was going to be. It was a time of decision. He had to reject the false paths and find the true one. We too have these times of decision in our lives, and there may well be some guidance in that story. As a Christian community, we try to do Jesus’ work in our time, and churches – communities – can also be tempted, and might prefer glory or power or security to the path which Jesus calls us to follow.
But I’m not sure if I would necessarily know temptation even if it hit me in the face.
God give us the self-knowledge
to know when we are being tempted,
and the strength
to follow your way.
Only the shops for this morning’s walk – the right knee is still not right, and when I walk I get left behind. Truth to tell, most of my walks in recent years have been more flat than hilly. Most (not all) hills involve one or more of stiles, rocks, slippery mud or steep descents – which all have disadvantages. But I do miss being in the hills if I’m away for a while, and there are some pretty easy options around here, which I take if I’ve time. So once in a while, I’d go up the easy way to Wild Bank Hill or Windle Edge or the old quarry, to be alone with the wind.
In tomorrow’s lectionary, the mountain top is a place to encounter God.
Is it because there’s more God there, or less distraction? I suspect the latter.
Is it still true? Probably, but not exclusively. It may be more about attitude than altitude. God give me the grace to trace your activity in daily life.
Meanwhile, the people of Ukraine must feel far from any kind of help, divine or otherwise. … to say nothing of the poor bloody Russian army, doing what they are told to do by people bent on destruction.
We can pray; whatever our altitude.
… a small trip to Holmfirth, and a bit of walking. The knee is far from right, but usable for a bit. It may hurt, but I cannot imagine the pain of a people under fire.
It seems to me that the West’s addiction to fossil fuels has made it less likely to apply meaningful sanctions to Russia. Far from being irrational, Putin has it all worked out. Sure, he likes to keep people guessing, but that’s all part of being a bully.
No words to say: please pray for Ukraine and the surrounding areas.
I read in Exodus in Sunday’s lectionary that God is awesome. And so it is. Sometimes, though, it seems to me that the power to amaze and inspire has gone somewhere else. Prompted by commercial imperatives, huge resources of art and artfulness have gone into advertising. It would be brilliant if such powers could come to the people of God, and we could be inspired to love people and worship God, rather than live unsustainably (in every sense).
Yes God is awesome, but the power to reflect and portray and spread this message is in human hands. I am troubled, though, that The Church itself is not always a fit vessel for God’s love. People abuse power, sadly; and the more the power, the more the ‘sexiness’ or the ‘magic’, the greater the opportunities for abuse.
No walk this morning (or yesterday), because of knee trouble…. which is a shame because the weather is nice at the minute.
Sunday’s lectionary, in keeping with the Transfiguration theme, contains a bit from 2 Corinthians about how the people of Israel could only encounter God with their faces veiled; whereas now, through Jesus Christ, we can have unveiled faces, seeing God’s glory as if in a mirror.
So, this ‘mirror’ analogy suggests there is still something a bit secondhand, a bit attenuated about our encounter with God. And so it has to be. And yet I suspect we are often longing for more … if we can bear it.
If you really want to see God’s glory, I suggest taking a lesson from the Luke passage – not to go up a mountain – but to see God’s glory at work where Christ is working in people to bring healing and hope. Having said that – I think it’s one of those times I’m preaching to myself too.
OTOH, the hills are quite glorious in their own right too, part of a co-operative effort between God’s creation and human management (for good or ill).