Old Photos

 Yes, the photographs are in colour, but they are forty, fifty years old, and have faded to sludgy browns and greens. They have lost their sharpness and vitality, the vibrancy of their true colours. 'My pullover was a brighter blue, as I remember it- surely it wasn't that shade!'

Memory can be like that, leeching out the details, sometimes the whole picture. An incident one of us remembers, but the other has totally forgotten. Or only vaguely recollects.

Whatever, these old photos are a reminder of the gulf between then and now, Things were different then. All we have is the present to embrace in all its fullness, whilst admitting that the past has shaped us, and our present experience will shape our future. Thus the importance of 'Now is the day of salvation'. The present moment, while the kingdom is near at hand, and God 'a very present help'.

'Carpe diem!' -seize the day! the Roman poet Horace probably meant it to signify enjoying life while one can, but it can be a salvific motto. It probably wasn't religious language, but it's a religious thought.     

Waiting

 How much of our lives is spent waiting in queues of one sort of another; the bus stop, the supermarket checkout, the ATM. Or just waiting; on the platform for the train, the time between ordering them meal and its arrival. 

The worst is surely the airport, with its different waits to check in, get through security, to board, and that dead time when the doors are closed, and nothing seems to happen for ages, before the aircraft trundles off, again to wait in a queue for take-off. 

But today our waiting-ten days since the Ascension- is rewarded; waiting, just as Jesus told his disciples not to leave the city until the father's gift of the Spirit was given. Waiting can sometimes be a disappointment, but this gift of God's Spirit completely overtook the disciples, bowled them out into the streets full of pilgrims for the harvest celebration of Pentecost, to tell of the love of God for all. 

Anglican sensibilities will expect something less dramatic this morning, but the prayer 'Come, Holy Spirit' will be made, that God will energise again his faithful people, into the action that is always needed in one form or another after waiting. 

Opening up

 'And now in age I bud again.... on whom thy tempests fell all night', I couldn't quite place it- I was sure it was George Herbert, but knowing that he died at only thirty nine, the phrase 'in age' seemed inappropriate for one so relatively young, by today's standards. Recourse to his Complete Works, though, located the verse in 'The Flower'- my half-hunch was right.. 

Budding again feels about where we are with the country opening up. The personal possibilities seem wider, although still limited. But after fifteen months, the buds of opportunity are welcome; first fruits were seen on Monday- lunch with friends, outside. (No inside lunches till June). 

Buds are things of promise, a down payment on what is to come. As we have moved from Easter to Ascensiontide last week, and anticipate Pentecost, the buds of resurrection life have seemed to pause for ten days, before the flowering next weekend. And then comes the long Trinity season- a time to see that flowering in all its glory, as we recapitulate the Jesus story with the insights and dynamism of Pentecost added to the fizz of Easter. 'I once more smell the dew and rain....O my onely light, it cannot be that I am he on whom thy tempests fell all night.' 

Well, I'm not quite at that stage of disbelief about the past tempests. But I sense the buds, and with the guidance of 'my onely light' relish the thought of the coming flowers. 

  

Lost and found

 At last! We have been fruitfully engaged during the pandemic with family history; it has filled in some gaps, dismissed some long-held, cherished notions, and although leaving us with more questions than answers, has been an instructive pastime, much enjoyed. 

And at last we have been able to place A, someone we knew was distantly related, but unsure how, into the family tree. And it brings enormous satisfaction to have done it, after hours of methodical search going back many months. He is second cousin. once removed, to Mary's mum. 

Finding and 'foundness' are integral to the faith. It is much more than the satisfaction experienced in finding A's place in the family. It is mutual; the finder and the found both rejoice. I don't care that I don't know if I am the finder, or if God is, in a particular situation; the mutuality, the relationship is all. And to God I am not a second cousin once removed; I am  a son; prodigal more times that I care to admit, but always found again, always reminded of my sonship. 

  

Drought

 How long is it since it rained? No sign of April showers since, well, forever. There may be some rain later in the week, and I for one will welcome it. So early in the year to have the rain barrel empty! Meaning that the late summer timetable has moved to late April; the garden has been watered from the outside tap, just when seeds are springing up, and life straining to grow in the tubs and beds. I hope it does not portend a dry summer, with water restrictions.....

The psalmist knew of drought, and applied it to his soul; Like as the hart panteth after the water brooks, so longs my soul for thee, O God. My soul thirsts for God, even for the living God. And dry seasons of the soul are part of our experience, if we are alive to the movements of our spirit. An absence is noted, of, how can I put it? Refreshment? Life? Joy? All of these, and none of them; I struggle to fill any word with what that absence contains. (If absence can contain anything). 

Fortunately, there are the promises  in the good book that we shall be like a well-watered garden, a spring that shall never fail, a tree planted by the water side;  I am reminded of Eric Whitaker's 'Cloudburst' as I read these promises, and the wonderful noise of the rain in the latter part of that choral piece. Let it rain! And be accompanied by the rainy refreshment of soul.