inkhorn

How can I pray while my heart cries, “You killed my son”? What can I say? How look for comfort from the One Who willed it done? Omnipotent, He could have stopped it if He would; my son... my son... numb with grief, my soul is one vast “why?” his life was all too brief; he was so young to die. Where were You, Lord? Where were You? Gently He replied, “Just where I was dearly, dearly loved, when Mine was crucified.” -           Ruth Bell Graham

A friend of mine recently experienced a heart-breaking tragedy. As numb with shock as I was, I can barely begin to imagine her pain. In that instant I wished I could wrap my arms tight around her and weep. Yet, unable to be at her side, I just wept, my heart breaking for all that she was going through. Of course the “whys” came. And no answer that made any semblance of sense. All I could do was pray. But what to pray for at such a time? Wishing it had never happened? I don’t have any answers for the “whys”. They still rattle around in my head. But in all the confusion, pain and grief, as the world spins around crazily, there is One Constant. So though there is anger and bewilderment, I can only hold on to Him until the world rights itself. The future is a blank without a view. That which I wanted most, You have denied; I cannot understand (and I have tried); There’s nothing I can do but wait on You.                                                                

Why am so I obsessed with this urge to jealously guard my boundaries? What crazy bee in my bonnet has so twisted my thought process that I can’t even see through my tangled skein of motives and desires leave alone unravel it! Have you ever had that awkward moment when you step forth self-righteously to forcefully declare your “just and fair” views only to realise, after some pithy back and forth, that the shoe is on the other foot, so to speak! I swung back and let one fly, straight off the shoulder, only to have it boomerang and smack me in the face! So having figured out (belatedly) that I am in the wrong, how do I feel? One word – awful! Apart from feeling like a worm, it’s humiliating to realise that I am a self-righteous prig! There’s a streak of sanctimoniousness that’s so deeply ingrained, I’ve mistaken it for righteousness! UGH! Again...awful! Stumbled across this line of verse yesterday and thought it was ironically apt – “Happy are they that hear their

Last week I had an interesting conversation with God. First, He showed me an image of a father holding a child’s hand, and from that picture, He taught me several truths. I asked God what the picture meant, so He told me to put myself in the child’s shoes and then think about what I would feel were I holding my own father’s hand. So I thought about it and the first thing that popped in my mind was that I would have absolute trust in my dad. I mean, I wouldn’t ask him where we were going or why we were going on a particular road, but would be simply happy to let my dad take me out wherever he wanted. (This is me as a child, so bear with me!)   Then there would be contentment and a sense of happiness, because my dad was with me and we were together. Also security, because I wouldn’t be worried about anything; my dad would take care of me. I don’t think this ever needs to be explained or taught to a child; they seem to be born with implicit trust! Then God said to me, “You’ve b

We have a bunch of stories – four years worth – some old, some new, some not even that good! But they all bear testament to a life of wedded bliss! There’s the time we took a stroll on the beach; and while I gazed romantically at the moon, you eyed a roasted corn cob lovingly! I always chuckle at our vastly differing priorities! Then there was the time you rummaged through old bookshops along with me! I’m not sure, what pleased me more – the horde we collected that day, or having you beside me the whole way! Remember our first fight? Both on our high horses refusing to give in – three days! What pride, then! Now, we barely manage to argue for an hour, if that long! It’s too much a waste of time, the silent treatment! I can never forget the time I was wretchedly ill; you left everything to nurse me, and you did it with such panache! I love you for that, my hero! I’ve come to recognise love – no

For a brief explanation of what this is about, look here . Implicit Obedience Doesn’t Involve Reconnoitring! The first three chapters of Deuteronomy are an excellent example of oral tradition. Just before the next generation was to enter the Promised Land, Moses sat down and recited their history over the past forty odd years. The purpose was two-fold – to ensure that the youngsters knew their past, as well as being a reminder of the pit-falls they should avoid. And one of the pit-falls is in the passage below – “And I (Moses) said to you... 'Look, the Lord your God has set the land before you; go up and possess it, as the Lord God of your fathers has spoken to you; do not fear or be discouraged.’ “And every one of you came near to me and said, ‘Let us send men before us, and let them search out the land for us, and bring back word to us of the way by which we should go up...’ “The plan pleased me well; so I took twelve of your men, one man from each tribe.” *

Another soul-searing truth I’ve learnt about myself is that I’ve never really loved my Father! I mean, yes, I do love Him (or thought I did), because He died for me and saved me and all that, but, truly, deep down, if I was being brutally honest, I’m not sure how real my love for Him is. I’ve never sought Jesus just for the pleasure of His company! I’ve always come to Him for...something; needs to be met, unfulfilled desires or even guidance for the next step. But just to come and sit at His feet and bask in His presence? Rarely, if ever. I can probably count those times on one hand! The heart-breaking truth is that He loves me in spite of my grasping, opportunistic tendencies. He is willing to take me...even like this!

So here I am, at another Blogathon. This one is turning out to be more of a discipline than I’d bargained for - learning to be still in the midst of chaos and putting pen to paper. As difficult as it seems today, I believe it needs to be done. Thanks FD for understanding, and those kind thoughts of comfort. My grandfather, went home to Jesus last week. He was 99 years old. There are so many thoughts flying through my mind right now as I try to straighten out and put down my feelings. Even though I knew this day would come, it still doesn’t lessen the pain and shock or prepare you in any way. I still feel sad. I still wish he were here. I still miss him. There are so many things I remember about him. Thatha , as we lovingly called him, was a force to be reckoned with. A brilliant sportsman, he had a whole trunk full of trophies and medals, garnered over years of competing and winning. But I admire him more for never boasting of his laurels. He had more to boast about than

When all is said and done, it boils down to Belief. It’s at the very core of our faith. Belief in what, you ask? It’s more than in the existence of God. Rather, His character, His attributes and their dependability in any given situation. Trusting that He is still in control; trusting that He knows and understands and loves. That He is working out His plan for me, however much the situation may seem to the contrary. Especially, when I want to hit something and yell, “Why?”(Not very ladylike I must admit! Banging pots and pans in the kitchen help relieve the frustration a teeny bit though!) It’s so easy to question God and wonder if, maybe, He made a mistake, or if I misread the signs! Yet that is where belief kicks in. It’s so damnably hard! But it’s a conscious choice to believe that He knows, He cares and that He is in control. Belief cannot be taken lightly. It is the crux; what will finally be reckoned – did I or didn’t I, believe? Was my unbelief, an insidious part of my