The Healing Waters and Trees.

“12 Along the bank of the river, on this side and that, will grow all kinds of trees used for food; their leaves will not wither, and their fruit will not fail. They will bear fruit every month, because their water flows from the sanctuary. Their fruit will be for food, and their leaves for medicine.”

A day, weeks and years wasted
spent in wondering about
what I will achieve tomorrow,
Scheming about the plans put in place
leading me to the death stench
of stagnation, The place
where hope has nowhere to go,
A stinking pond,
where life is slowly poisoned,
Brine rising, suffocating,
life’s arteries clogged,
My source forgotten,
Or abandoned for nothing,
The flow,
and life dies
when the stream
Forgets that love is always
flowing out,
And is never found
by clinging to
lost dreams,
futile laments,
yesterday’s regrets.

I look to
where life is flourishing,
Joining others seeking our source,
Held in a promise of abundance thriving,
Deep waters where life teems
below the surface,
Sometimes flooding my heart with the rush
pounding in my ears and drowning out,
The sounds of silence shouting to me,
Be quiet, to my
heart’s longing for a quiet
restful conversation,
I hear a voice saying, now
I am here,
Close to my source
loving the green trees and
never ending supply,
I am
the twig swept along
in the current,
It knows
my source is near,
And lives within me,
And surrounds me,
My sanctuary
My home
My life.

I went to St George in Western Queensland last week. 8 hours of driving and thinking and a few showers along the way. In the midst of nowhere these thoughts came to mind.

When rain falls in the desert
No one knows or cares
Except the person whose feet have
touched the hot earth of the
barren sand and rocks that stretch to eternity,
They are the discoverers of the world,
Waiting, for that touch when life is born.
When rain falls in the desert,
There are a multitude of creatures,
Waiting patiently for the right time to live again,
They haven’t wasted time rushing around,
They are patient knowing
in the desert to try to live too soon is death,
Each drop of rain has a wisdom that knows the right time,
For that creature who has waited for life to come,
Unless, I spend time in the desert I don’t know,
or care about any of this.

Dirty donga toilets,
With rude pictures
and phone numbers,
With ruder invitations
scrawled on the doors,
Potholed driveway,
Ancient fuel pumps,
But, my Dad always said,
“Rusty’s is cheap”.
It was always where we stopped,
On the way to Brisbane from Dalby,
The station wagon packed with kids,
Saving a dollar or two
Was worth the austerity.

I would always stop at Rusty’s,
But, only if I was by myself,
No one else in my family tolerated,
The dirty donga toilets,
The potholes and the rude service,
To save a dollar or two,
I fell in love with the bacon and egg toasties,
That sometimes had been kept too long,
In the bay marine,
Toasted bread was like rock in the corners,
But I loved the taste that
brought back silly memories of my Dad,

Now when I drive down the highway,
I see the old Rusty’s is gone,
And, yesterday I stupidly cried,
As I drove past the emerging construction,
I am not sure why, but perhaps it was about
losing a reminder of my dad’s idiosyncrasies,
That used to annoy me,
But, now I miss every day,
Torn down to make way,
For clean toilets, and a smooth driveway,
Sanitised food the same as every other fuel stop.

Why would I cry about a service station?
I am glad no one could see my stupidity,
As I drove towards peak hour frustration,
Rusty’s as a place will never be celebrated,
Except for the memories that remain with me,
Of a time when Dad was still with us,
And, how life invites us to think about love,
Because, my life will be torn down one day,
I will make way for something else,
All that I will leave behind is memories,
And stories that others will tell about me,
I want people to smile as they are told,
Crying at Rusty’s isn’t about a dollar saved
It’s about something Dad and I shared,
That only I know and have tasted with him.

I wondered this morning what I am going to do with my last few words,
What will be the measure of my life? What will my words say about me?
Some days I have the opportunity to carefully choose what I will say,
And, I say to myself, “That was a good conversation, it was full of life”,
Sometimes I leave a conversation deeply disappointed
seeing that even my kindest words didn’t touch the other person’s pain.

Rain – I started writing this a couple of days ago. I didn’t realise we were going to have a huge downpour last night. I hope I never lose the wonder that’s contained in everything that God has created.

The thought of one drop of rain,
Falling from a leaden sky,
Brings me to my knees again
I wonder at how simple and wonderful is this fact,
Our planet’s life is held in a drop of water,
That small sphere contains,
The lifeblood for a waiting seed,
The beginnings of a cool fern garden,
Thirst quenching moisture for all creatures,
The beginnings of a mighty river,
The source of the largest ocean,
Life held in a few atoms combined
by the hands of Eternity.

Shafts of light
begin with their morning stretch
pushing the day forward,
Reaching out to
blessed regrets
and, hopeful failures,
This day’s comings and goings
readying themselves
to be shared with anyone
opening their eyes
with me,
A day that promises
to be filled with
broken conversations,
Misplaced dreams,
And, hope found in the words
“It is finished”,
My morning’s welcome to the sun
telling me
this day is ready
to be bathed fully with light,
But, begin by waiting
for what must finish today
making time for love to do her work.

Truth is the unwelcome intruder
into what love demands,
Too many labels
that say whether I belong or not,
Labels who have befriended arrogance
in self determined belief,
That tells me what is really important,
And, if I don’t believe enough,
Well, I just can’t belong,
Love brings a kinder understanding
of what is true and lovely and good,
And, how I can live out of this
finding truth not in my head,
But, when I lay down my life and arrogance,
Allowing truth to do her work,
Kinder words come reminding me
how grace works,
How not to miss the point
God is making in this moment,
Not making something more important
than what is should be,
Knowing that sometimes the greatest truth is;
A little less truth and a little more love.

All day my head is full of things
that need to get done,
Words to write and numbers to add up,
Responding to people’s questions,
Making things fit on a page,
Or, adding to a list of important things to do,
My keyboard following with obedient strokes,
More and more stuff,
Filling my day with uncensored activity,
The knowledge economy is my daily bread,
Yet I feel hungrier every day,
Consuming ever increasing mouthfuls of knowledge,
Adding another byte in the pool of information,
That daily grows in size with ever lessening
nourishment for my pangs for Eternity.
My fat mind disguising a malnourished soul.

When I really want to think
about questions that don’t fit on a page,
That can’t be answered with a few keystrokes,
I go for a walk alone,
So my questions can tumble around
and the less important items fall away,
My head empties out all the stuff,
That fills my day with information
needed for only a few moments,
Then easily discarded and forgotten,
Something comes alive in the noisy bush,
I realise creation is happening around me,
Today God is busy working out his plans,
Inviting me to join him at his table,
Here I can think about questions that dig deeper,
Beyond the small horizon of my LED screen.

When I realise that I am a small part of the answer
in a much bigger world
One that doesn’t need my contribution,
I begin to understand better why forty days
in a desert without food or water,
Is more nourishing than the accumulation
Of another pile of words that will only
Ever receive the briefest of glances.
Or, the indulgence of meaningless wandering
through the maze of vicarious relationships
with people who only care if I click on their
money making lures to waste more time,
But, when I walk alone and listen
I am joined with good patient friends,
They don’t rush me to any conclusions,
Mostly they help me find new questions,
I hear the invitation of care and its priority,
And, I walk and wait till I hear the words,
“It is well with my soul”.

I wanted to connect deeply with Jesus this morning. These words rattled around for a day until at one point I was nearly in tears about how much enough was for Jesus. Blessings Chris

Enough

I never knew what “enough” was
until my life was fully prepared
to love,
And, to be loved,
I didn’t know how many sleepless nights
it would take,
Till finally I cried out enough,
But, It was then
love looked into my eyes,
Seeing the pain that lies behind
the crinkled smiles,
He knew when I was broken enough,
Ready again to love with a heart
that never says, “enough”,
Enough wept over a lost Jerusalem,
Broken friendships,
Family heartaches,
Feeling sad,
Not knowing why,
Enough took that first fateful step
Taking the broken hearted path,
That called out to my Father, “Enough”,
Giving me enough love to
To cry out in my prayers,
Enough of my effort,
Enough for me,
Enough comes,
As I abandon everything
I thought was enough
To the discovery of the daily prayer
Where I look into the eyes
Of broken love
With outstretched arms,
Sad eyes,
And I see what enough love
looks likes today.

Most days I wake and feel really happy. How lucky am I to have the life that I have!

Waking to Joy

I love waking to the
eager expectation of
what this day will bring,
Today as my eyes opened
my smile began
somewhere deep inside,
First, it hit my stomach,
It felt warm and full,
Then I found my smile,
was flowing outwards
reaching my fingers and toes,
The warmth contrasting
with the cool morning,
As I sit quietly I feel
my smile surrounding
my first thoughts
about the hope
waiting for my
next conversation,
And, the laughter
that will be shared
when smiling with others,
My joy found as
my face turns to
the new mercies
yet to be found in this day.

“Inside everyone is a great shout of joy”. David Whyte

A reflection on an encounter with brokenness. This is my way of crying with him. It could be any of us at some point in our life.

Today I listened to the saddest story,
sitting with pain
that has sucked the light,
And the laughter
From a precious life –
Visiting together
the heartache that has brought
a strong, loyal, faithful man
to his knees,
I feel his pain,
I know this path
And its loneliness
That feels like desolation.
I listen again to the same words,
Knowing that his wounds
are still raw and bleeding,
Not even close to the
victorious sermon of overcoming,
The one we all want to hear.

I question God about this,
Why do you allow it?
How is there good in this brokenness?
I am frustrated by my
helplessness to find the right words,
Or, the answer that will fix
the disappointments that
slowly have broken a life.
So, I just wait,
And, cry out to God,
Asking why?
Waiting……..
Realising and struggling with the reality
that prayer isn’t
weak submission to fate’s cruelty,
But, the response of trust,
Keeping God in his right place
Recognising my humanness,
Humbly accepting his path to restoration.

 

I wrote this as part of my commitment to God in the coming year. I was seeking the attitude that will allow God to show me all that he wants me to see this year.

Willing

Willing to let go of everything
And, anything that calls me away,
from my humanness,
With its tattered edges,
Fraying ends creating,
Slivers of thread that break free,
From the fabric,
Of what I thought was the pattern,
Of my life,
Wanting the technicolour dreamcoat,
Instead,
The fading colours,
Are evidence of the
scars from daily washing,
The unmended tears,
Allowing light to see,
What is willing,
In me.

There are always those moments in life when we enter the shadows. The darker moments where life seems a little dimmer than what we want it to be. It contrasts with what we can be told we should be experiencing as Christians. The Christian life is supposed to be one of hope and joy and love.

But, we can’t fully understand these things until we have faced the reality of not having them present in our life.

I love the hopefulness that each day brings to my life. This sense of hope is brighter and more certain because of the shadows I have experienced.

Until I knew…

I didn’t know
what hope was
Until I knew
Without you
There was nothing
To look forward to.

I have included a couple of photos that have given me the space to reflect and create for the past couple of days.

Sometimes I think we have a misplaced understanding of what peace is about. I don’t think we get that peace is often found in the midst of turmoil and uncertainty.

Peace

Peace isn’t knowing the way,
It sometimes starts with,
The invitation to walk on water,
When the storm is blowing a gale,
And, I don’t know why I am here,
But, the outstretched hand,
Touching mine,
Calms my fears,
When I hear the words,
That comes from the voice of peace,
That calms the storm with a word,
I curl up and rest my tired body,
Peace starts,
With silence and ears prepared to listen,
A will that says no to the easy options,
My heart prepared to wait,
Trusting the question,
Not the obvious answer,
Allowing wisdom to do his work,
Resting in his time and way.

What is holiness? I spent some time considering this today. Somehow in a world of profanities its hard to know what it looks like. I find the Sunday School images are not sufficient.

So this poem is an exploration of first what it isn’t and then how it can come to my life as I open the space for holiness to enter in.

Holiness

Surrounded by the profanity of
me first arrogance,
Elbowing through the crowded
streets of emptiness,
Milling around,
Readying for,
The mad rush to nowhere,
Mindless decisions,
Consuming everything,
Adding nothing,
To the conversation
of Eternity,
Holiness replaced by
Busily,
building straw houses.

Holiness no longer needs,
To trample down,
Stepping over others,
In the urgent rush
of not being left behind,
Satisfied by
recovering the lost art,
Of wonder and surprise,
Found in a place,
Or, a moment of beauty,
Or, a word of hope
Appreciated by stopping
to understand,
Kindness,
gathering fragments of hope.

Holiness steps with me,
Into this moment,
Opening,
Into a world unimagined,
By my humanness,
It’s the celebration of
my weakness,
With shame removed,
The oil flowing down
my forehead,
Mixing with my tears,
Realising lost love,
And, restoration’s promise,
No longer limited
By my frailty,
Winter seeing spring coming,
Discovering,
fresh shoots seeking light.

Tomorrow is our 26th wedding Anniversary. I won’t be online but wanted to share something about beauty. I am married to a beautiful woman and I had no idea 26 years ago what a gift God had given me. Still feeling very blessed today. Even knowing that I probably have picked the wrong photo for this post is a part of appreciating the beautiful person that I am married to.

Beautiful love

Beautiful is the loyalty found,
In the shared years,
Of trusted friendship,
Knowing that laughter
Is waiting in every conversation,
Seeing the small crinkle at the corner of her mouth,
Her eyes start smiling
I know first what’s about to happen,
and, then hearing
the familiar melody of her laughter
Lighting every heart in the room
Beautiful is the place in my heart
that knows this laugher is ours,
Shared and inviting others to join.

Beauty has shared sadness,
Again and again,
Tears flowing together when disappointment,
Has overwhelmed our hearts,
Beauty is when it’s not just me
that feels this loss,
It’s seeing her love seek out my heart,
Sharing the ache,
Walking together through the shadows,
Knowing her tears are about
my sadness,
As well as hers,
Even my darkest moment is never alone,
The scars of our relationship
Are signs of healing,
That belong only to each other’s soft touch.

Beauty is the gift that was given in my youth,
Love’s first tentative steps taken,
Together in vows that promised forever,
The certainty of youthful enthusiasm,
Knowing exuberant hope,
Beauty is faithful not chasing other loves,
She hasn’t faded,
Beauty is finding the awe,
One extraordinary life
In two lives joined together,
Everyday shared a notch of trust in our belts,
The years adding a wrinkle here and there,
Grey hairs gathering momentum,
Testimonies to the awe that belongs,
To perseverance in what is true and right and lovely,
Beauty is never fully captured in a few words,
But they give a glimpse into the possibility
and the beauty that I live with every day.

Even when I forget
the birds are
playing in the trees,
Flitting to this and that branch,
Not bothered one bit
by what I think,
They are happy doing
what is needed to be done,
Their sounds of joy
shared with anyone
who stops and listens,
Birds don’t care
about what will make me
happy,
They eat and drink and
make beautiful sounds,
Knowing only what they
should be doing now.

Every season
I watch the bark
peel away from the tree,
Finishing the cycle of
death then life,
Another ring added
to the tally of seasons,
As death works hard
readying for fresh sap,
to move upwards,
Branches taking new directions,
Leaves raise their green fingers,
Reaching toward heaven,
Nature praising life’s open sky,
The tree grows, Because,
The bark is willing to let go.

Majestic leaden sky
promising drenching,
Soon.
Sodden ground and
humidity soaking every pore,
The blanketing sweating clouds,
Waiting for the work of
replenishment to begin again.

I just finished a day with a Book Club. I took the time to remember the gifts that were a part of our time together.

Things to remember – Today

I need to remember:
Love is an amazing gift shared with friends,
In every person there are glimpses of awe,
That a long silence is good for my soul,
A blessing from a friend fills me with gratitude,
God is always present in every conversation,
That beauty doesn’t need me but is all around,
That birds are playing even when I’m not there,
The soothing sound of water and waterfalls,
Today is a celebration that I am invited into,
Darkness is a part of preparing for light.