love and war

It's a striking dichotomy. Love and War. But it surmises remarkably the story I have recently found myself in.

The last few months have been pretty difficult for me, I've struggled and strived, and found that life can sometimes just be so hard. I've encountered immeasurable evil - like you would not believe.

But I have taken great hope from Ecclesiastes, for which I thank my little sister!

In chapter 3, the writer tells of how there is a time for everything under the sun. I specifically wanted to focus on: a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.

What a remarkably wise statement! I've always struggled with balancing everything, and these words brought me great comfort.

I'll explain. I don't know if you're anything like me; sometimes I need to go to war against my work, or my emotions, or my approach, or (rarely, but sometimes) others. Sometimes I need to hate the status quo, hate the difficulties, hate the circumstances enough for me to want change so much it forces me to close my eyes, marigold my hands, or open my door, motivated by an angry love that it is not meant to be like this. And sometimes I don't need those emotions.

Life flows with an inevitable energy, a love that cannot be measured, a rhythm that's amazing. Everything works.

Whether war or peace, contentment follows... "He has made everything beautiful in it's time!" captures a mind-blowing understanding of a God whose work cannot be button holed, boxed in or summed up in three - short - words.

The flowers on the back lawn at college: breaking through the turf; the leaves on my garden path: very slowly dying and those wisdom teeth: still doing their utmost to burst through my gums. Beautiful. Love and War.

Where are your wars? And what do you love?

breaking through the skin

Not for the first time in my life, I realised this week that I share something in common with a 10 month old baby (no cheap shots please!) As the picture suggests, I'm currently teething. The pursuit of wisdom can frequently be a painful experience.

It seems that these times shape us. As I mentioned in my previous blog, we were broken into a couple of weeks back. They've come and put a new back door on now, but it doesn't look as safe as the last one. I was a little concerned. However, I'm also really conscious that I do not want to live in a fortress. My view is that too many people want to shut the world out, and live a nice little life in a laboratory, utterly secure from natural interferences. It's the sterility that came two weeks previous that I want to avoid in my response. Jesus never asked us to pursue quaintness.

So I vowed never to live that way. I hope I can model surrender to Jesus, without ever resigning to less than God given circumstances. Part of this adventure is that danger lurks around some corners - it's how we rebalance ourselves that determines our fate through this jungle. So I'm asking God to enter again (as if he ever exited!), and make this a safehouse. A place of peace for all who enter in. Jesus was not stolen. And he never will be. So I'm praying that out of my mouth bursts a new and relentless forgiveness and passion. That he heals those wounds, enabling me to sit at his table in confidence.