Fierce weather has a way of shaking the fidgets out of my system. Not just the cobwebs of life but the things that I’ve been clinging on to for no good reason other than they are mine and nobody else’s; and such things always weigh me down instead of setting me free.
However, we can’t always blame the world around us for the noise within us. Sometimes we just don’t want to listen, or more correctly we want our voice to be the only one speaking.
Vengeance is the ultimate form of silliness. It accomplishes nothing because it cannot restore anything.
It is very sad when, in our church fellowships, we allow our inner rabbit to run wild. Instead of turning cheeks we slap each other in the face,
With our petty arguments over whether we were being ‘Bouncy or Coffy’ or even ‘Boffy’ how ever will those around us be able to see we are Christians by the way we love one another?
Like Bulls in China shops (or is it Toddlers in the Sanctuary?) when we just get on and do things we get the job done but we can often leave a wake that requires repentance and reparation
…if there is a bridge over the River of the Water of Life and you are not allowed to play Poohsticks can the place really be named Paradise?
My fear of God is deeply ingrained and I weep that some ministers continue to preach judgement and rejection instead of welcome and redemption.
As a Gobby Vicar (Owl may be another of my patron ‘saints’!) I love the sound of my own voice and never pass up an opportunity to tell others what God really wants us (well, others) to do. I know that daily I need to stop, smell the petrichor, and listen to the voice of Our Beloved saying ‘Where are you’?
Eventually he learns that his real ‘treasure’ is not to be found in ten (or even 10 hundred) pots of honey but instead it is amongst his friends in the 100 Aker Wood.
Suffolk Vicar 