Do Not Shake The Trees

Do Not Shake The Trees

It was steadily pouring rain. I peered hopefully through the windshield of the car at the grey, misty, wet world outside. My husband, Michael, and I were driving several hours to Sydney to meet up with our church family to attend the popular Cherry Blossom Festival, at the Japanese Gardens. Suddenly my phone sang a little trill and I eagerly picked it up to see what the message was. I had received an announcement on our church’s 'Whatsapp' thread; the plans for the garden tour were officially cancelled. I looked at Michael, and in great optimism we discussed the message and then we decided to continue our journey. The weather remained bleak as we drove slowly up to the entrance gates and we were the second car to park. Garden attendants were milling around the entryway in their bright fluorescent  wet weather gear, bored and aimless. In hopeful anticipation of a change in weather, Michael and I balanced our large umbrellas with cameras, coats and warm wooly hats. 

The rain eased slowly and although the walkways were awash with water we enjoyed a pristine world of quiet, refreshing peacefulness. There were no expected crowds of people, jostling and talking excitedly. Sparkling diamond tear drops clung graciously to the ends of petals, leaves and fronds. The scent of rain filled the air as we breathed deeply and the beauty of vivid colours enriched our hearts. We were enveloped by a soothing Asian ambience of delightfulness. Here, on several acres, were recreated in miniature; traditional idealised Japanese landscapes.We beheld the tranquil setting of  a serene lake bordered with walk ways of fine white pebbles,lush gardens, ornamental blossoming trees and a gentle murmuring waterfall. The landscape took in a quaint wooden tea house and charming wooden bridges with splashes of red colour adorning them. In enraptured wonder we slowly made our way around the gardens; stopping frequently to capture each new delight on camera. It was a visual treat of tastefulness and colour. Stone lanterns, bamboo water spouts and koi swimming gracefully in the lake, enthralled us with an oriental atmosphere. 

Blossoming cherry trees adorned the gardens forming an elegant arched walk way in the midst of the balance and poise of natural beauty. Attractively placed trees garnished the grounds, spreading their graceful limbs laden with jewels of pinks and scarlet as they reached cautiously towards the skies. Scattered through out the gardens were signs. The signs read, ‘Do not shake the trees’. Childhood memories of  flowering plum trees came sharply to my mind and the laughter and fun of friends as we shook those trees and watched a flurry of pretty petals come tumbling down around us. The beautiful flowers on those lovely trees were delicately in place, held on by a whisper of hope. The signs were a constant reminder of the vulnerability of each and every colourful flower clinging tenderly to the branches.

All around us in the garden of life are cherry blossoms; people, who although they wear a smile, hide the pain and hurt of quietened tears. In silence they maintain a frail hold on God, on joy and on life. Perhaps you are a blossom. Perhaps I am too. Maybe it’s our children. Faintly clutching to thin strands of light, reaching in hope with uncertainty towards strength, towards love. The signs say ‘Do not shake the trees.’ 

John 13:34 "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another.

Eph 4:32 Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you.

From Shame to Honour

From Shame to Honour

This is a “once upon a time” fairy tale like story, however it is true. Once upon a time a bouncing, baby girl was born and named Mary Elizabeth. Her Scottish parents adored her and her older sisters and brother, Patricia, Jane and John, hugged and kissed her. The family lived on a  picturesque island called Tasmania, south of the mainland of Australia. She grew as all little Australian girls grew, enjoying an outdoor lifestyle of sports, participating in the active games of basketball and hockey. She added the pleasures  of piano, flute and clarinet lessons to her already full and abundant life. Friends and family and happy activities filled her with the joys of a simple Australian life in the quiet city of Hobart. All too soon the young Mary blossomed into a beautiful, elegant lady and she entered university, and chose to study a Double degree in Commerce and Law. Soon the busyness of work and travel abroad filled her early adult life. 

Then came the year 2000. For every Australian that year was indelibly etched in our memories, for that was the year that Sydney held the Olympics. The fervour of excitement painted the city in a wash of vitality. Olympic fever was at an all time high, and there was a vibrancy of eager expectation as Olympians poured into the bustling city, along with international tourists, world leaders, royalty and Australians from around the country. One of those to journey to Australia was Frederik from Denmark, and although jet lagged, he allowed his Greek cousins to convince him to head out for a night on the town to meet some of the locals. They made their way to the old historic Slip Inn, and there he saw her. Frederik met Mary for the first time. 

It was love at first sight. Frederik described it this way, “If you had to visualise it, it was like a summer landscape in moonlight. Still water in a pond - evocative - there is a surface, but also depth. Harmony and tranquility and lots of kindness and beauty.” Frederick was smitten. However, Frederick was no ordinary  handsome young man from a Nordic country. He was the Crown Prince, heir apparent to the royal throne of Denmark. The Prince had fallen in  love with a commoner. It became a love story that all romantic fairy tales are made of. Three years later, in Rome, on bended knee, Prince Frederik proposed to his beloved Mary, presenting her with a stunning engagement ring featuring an emerald-cut diamond and two emerald-cut ruby baguettes.The noble Danish court announced that Queen Margrethe II  had given her consent. On May 4th, 2004, a regal wedding of dazzling splendour and pageantry took Mary Donaldson, a commoner, to the position of Crown Princess Mary, one day to become Queen Consort of Denmark.The hearts of Australians were filled with adoration for our honourable Princess and her Princely husband. We have joyed in the delights of the pitter patter of royal feet at Brockdorff's Palace in Copenhagen, as the births of Prince Christian, Princess Isabella and the young twins Prince Vincent and Princess Josephine add to their parent’s dream like story. Prince Frederik and Princess Mary continue to live happily ever after. 

A commoner becomes a princess. The ordinary becomes honoured. It isn’t just a fair tale like story. It is also the story of salvation. Our holy King takes us, the guilty and the shamed by sin, and invests us with honour in heavenly places. He is smitten, and He longs to bring us to palaces on high to reign with Him forever. Me, of lowly reputation, becomes the bride of my godly King. I am taken from the degradation of the sinner to the heights of distinction. Salvation, an exchange of my rags to the dignity of a garment of righteousness, through the forgiveness of sins and the gift of eternal life. We all warm to  a “happy ever after love story” because it is a reflection of the deepest yearnings of our own heart for a life and a love outside of this world of sin and shame. This story can be your story. This story can be mine. Will we say “I do”?

Isa 54:4,5 "Fear not, for you will not be put to shame; And do not feel humiliated, for you will not be disgraced; But you will forget the shame of your youth.… For your husband is your Maker, Whose name is the LORD of hosts; And your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel, Who is called the God of all the earth.”

Matt 22:2 "The kingdom of heaven is like a king who prepared a wedding banquet for his son.

Rev 19:7 Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready.

Leaning on Jesus

Leaning on Jesus

It was late winter in Australia and the excitement of approaching spring escalated with a trip to the local nursery. There I stood gazing in wonder at the metal racks filled with packages of seeds. Bright pictures of the hopeful fruit to be achieved from the seeds, adorned the outside of the packets. My mind tumbled with dreams and plans as I enthusiastically worked out my purchases. Armed with many different packets and several heavy bags of seed raising mix, I headed home to start the planting. Across our large, wooden kitchen table I sorted out the paper packages, placing the right amount of plastic containers  next to each one. I had tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, beetroot, cabbage, corn, zucchini and many more all vying for a place on my table. Outside, on a round plastic table, I had the seed raising mixture, scissors and a spoon all ready for the next stage in the project. I carried a packet and selected containers to the table outside, spooning the damp dirt into each punnet. Then I snipped open the package cautiously, and tipped tiny seeds into the palm of my hand. Each seed I placed lovingly and tenderly into the dirt, covering them over and with a spray of water, I carefully moistened the soil. Finally the seeds were all tucked away soundly under their blanket of earth. I placed the trays of planted seeds by the large glass window at the back of our house where the warm winter sun streamed brightly in each day and where they were kept snugly warm by the fire at night.

The thought of the fresh, home grown snow peas, slightly fried with garlic and soy sauce made my mouth water, so I chose to grow the pods. The seeds were large and round like faded dried peas. Within days after being attentively planted and lovingly cared for, tiny green shoots appeared. With in a week, two little leaves adorned each sprout and with all the tenderness of a mother watching over her baby, I continued to nurture their growth. Soon the seedlings were several inches tall and crowding their container with life.Fresh new leaves adorned their vigorous upward growth and tiny fine tendrils started their horizontal journey. Before long a congested growth of snow peas over flowed their punnetts, while their long thin tendrils reached, twisted and twirled their way around their cramped neighbours. My snow peas were growing and leaning haphazardly on each other for support. They would never reach their full potential in such a state. It was certainly time to transplant them into the outdoor bed I had prepared for them, with a sturdy trellis ready for them to climb on. Separating the seedlings was an arduous job, as I broke tendrils and tried to carefully identify each individual plant. Finally, they were planted, detached from each other, and spaced evenly apart  by the framed trellis. Soon their tiny tendrils reached and curled and entwined themselves around the climbing trellis. Higher and higher they grew under the gentle, warming sun. Milky white flowers embellished the plants with the promise of pods to come as they gained strength and height, clinging tenaciously onto the netting on the frame. Days turned into weeks and with the weeks came the development  of the long ,bright green, snow pea pods, ready to harvest and enjoy.

The growth of the snow peas brought to my mind the growth God desires to see in me. I naturally desire to stay snugly in my container, surrounded by others of whom I can lean on, connect with, and entwine my life around. We are all concerned about what people think of us, our reputations. We all desire to please people, to be liked, to receive their approval. We hand others the control over our lives as we wrap our lives around them. We lean on each other, comparing ourselves among ourselves, needing love and feeling empty. We become like the snow peas, over crowded and cluttered in their containers. Tendrils that God created to support our growth upward on a strong solid frame of Jesus, we use to mingle ourselves around each other in a mass of co-dependency. God’s plan is for us to mature and flourish individually, to fulfil His purpose in our lives, to lean on His strength and develop the fruit of the Spirit. Today I am challenged to seek God and His glory first and to weave my life around Him.

John 12:42, 43 “The Pharisees …. loved the approval of men rather than the approval of God.”

John 5:44 “How can you believe, if you accept praise from one another and don't seek the praise that comes from the only God?”

Matt 22:37 Jesus said unto him, You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.

Photobombed

Photobombed

Photobombing is an indiscriminate, unexpected appearance of another person who ends up in your photo, just as the picture is being taken. I go to a church that is part of an active, on campus university ministry and  we have many vibrant and enthusiastic youth that attend. We have lots of laughter and much fun with photobombing. There are the photos of happy best friends smiling sweetly together while a photo bomber leaps, mouth gaping, across the background. There are the group photos with everyone in orderly place when suddenly, just at the last moment, a person throws himself in horizontal position in front of the group, giving at times an illusion of flying. People jumping excitedly, pulling comical faces, waving arms and smiling cheekily all make random entrances into photos Photobombing can bring lots of laughter and cherished memories. 

Recently in Australia a photobombed picture went viral and even claimed world wide exposure. As part of the British Commonwealth, Australia participated at the Commonwealth Games held in Glasgow. The Queen was intently watching the Australian hockey team, known as the Hockeyroos, record a win of 4-0 over Malaysia. After the game Hockeyroos players, Jayde Taylor and Brooke Peris, whipped out their phones in an attempt to get a selfie as the Queen walked past in the background. The girls seemed to have it staged when  Queen Elizabeth appeared to stop and smile behind them as they snapped the picture.

For me the funniest and most random of all photobombing was done by a giraffe. I was at Sydney Taronga Zoo with my best friend, Lisa. She was nicely positioned by the giraffe enclosure to have her photo taken while a giraffe grazed serenely in the background. His elongated neck was stretched as he reached high into the wire basket above, using his long cobalt tongue to deftly grasp the lucerne and pull it into his mouth. I took the photo when all of a sudden there appeared a younger giraffe behind Lisa seemingly to deliberately photobomb. I asked Lisa to stay where she was and I kept taking photos. I was laughing so much. The giraffe was pulling “giraffe necks”. He would twist his neck this way or that way in such funny poses as he sauntered past. Back and forth he ambled, and with each passing was a new antic. 

 How often are we going through our busy day taking snap shots in time with our minds only to stop at the end of the day and realise God was there in the background at each and every moment? God is a photobomber in our lives. He is never random, always deliberate and always within view, whether we realise it or not. He is standing there in each and every frame of life, always present and never absent. Do we see Him? Do we recognise Him? Yet this is not who God wants to be. He wants to be in the selfie beside us, loved and adored simply because He loves and adores us first. He desires our friendship, He longs to enjoy close connection with us. Do I choose today to allow Jesus to be in my selfie, loved and smiling beside me?

John 15:15 I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you.

James 4:8 Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you

He Will Bring To You The Morning

He Will Bring To You The Morning

Alone she wrestles

In darkest isolation.

The night stretches on

never ending,

forever.

Wisps of gloom swirl wearily,

Time stands still, 

A sentinel of gloom,

Immortal,

Eternal.

Inky darkness envelops,

Tears mingle with murky waters,

Concealing pain,

Drowning,

Hopeless.

Tenaciously she clings

And wonders why.

He will bring to you the morning.

Hold on.

Not long.

A hush enshrouds her grieving heart,

A whispered glimmer of light 

on angel wings

soars awakening through the skies.

A blush.

A dash of beauty.

He has brought to you the morning.

Thirsty

Thirsty

It had been a long, hard, hot week for my friend, Lisa. One trouble after another had bubbled to the surface. Difficult problems to be solved, irritable people to be dealt with and an accumulated lack of sleep, had brought the week to an exhausting close. Soaking up the glory of a crimson sunset, Lisa inhaled slowly and visibly relaxed. It was now the Sabbath. Half murmured thoughts surfaced in her mind of a deep desire to enjoy the presence of God this holy Sabbath day. She was tired, more than tired and she craved worship. 

Lisa woke and stretched slowly, easing her limbs gently from their sleeping position as the familiar ache of rheumatoid arthritis  brought her fully awake. It was late. She had overslept. A deep longing for quiet time with God filled her soul as she carefully made her way to the shower. Time was a premium and she brushed her soul-filled hunger aside with wisps of hair and plunged into preparing for church. Arriving late at the already filled car park, she hastily parked at the far end and made her way to the house of the Lord. Lisa silently slipped into a comfortable back pew but the thirst for God grew greater. How she longed for God deep within. Her week had been so hectic that she felt disconnected, as if she had run far ahead of the Lord. “Are you there for me, Father, “ she quietly prayed, “I so long for you, to be near to you.” Her disjointed thoughts tumbled between the troubles of the week, her aching heart for God and the service currently in progress. 

The programme ended and Lisa slid slowly out of her seat and made her way thoughtfully across the car park. She was thirsty, very thirsty. The heat of the sun beat down on her relentlessly as she made her way back to the car. In her hurry that morning she had left her water bottle at home. Now she felt parched in body and spirit. Discouraged, Lisa started to drive away from the church. She chose the long route home, past houses framed with bright green lawns, flowering garden beds and shady trees. Startled, she saw a sign  by the road and pulled quickly to a stop. In bold black letters the sign read, “Free plums.” The large plum tree with rich green foliage was laden with ripe, deep purple plums, just ready to be picked. In joy Lisa picked one soft plum, then another and still another. Going to her car she retrieved an old, small plastic shopping bag and excitedly continued to pick plum after plum. The delight of the shade and the beauty of the gardens and lawn refreshed her spirits. With eagerness she took a bite of the sweet, juicy plum. Trickles of red juice squirted into her mouth and quenched her thirst. God came near and spoke into her heart words of comfort. “I have never left you nor forsaken you, Lisa. I am here for you.” She reached for another plum, satisfying her physical thirst even more. The peacefulness of the scene brought rest to her troubled mind. God’s presence was so near and His words so comforting, her thirsty soul for Him was filled. Her heart filled with thankfulness towards God for the gift of the plums and for the refreshment of body and spirit she received in those few brief minutes standing under a leafy tree relishing the sweetness of succulent plums. That moment and those plums were her gift from God. Tears welled up and threatened to spill over as her heart felt warmed by God’s thoughtfulness care and tender love for her. 

We have all experienced harried and frazzling weeks of problems, exhaustion and less time spent with God. Those moments of craving for God’s quietness and presence as expressed by the psalmist in Ps 42:1, 2 “As the deer pants for the water brooks, So my soul pants for You, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.” In the stillness of the moment God calls to my soul and I hear His voice  saying, "If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink.” (John 7:38). I eagerly drink and again hear His words, “With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.” ( Isa 12:3) I smile and I experience Psalm 116:7 “Return to your rest, my soul, for the LORD has been good to you.”

My Good Shepherd

My Good Shepherd

Leaning lazily against an old rustic fence post, I  nonchalantly took in the scene at our local Agricultural Field Day. It was a scene I had witnessed many times before, the Australian way of moving sheep. I love Aussie sheep. I love the smell, I love the different tones of bleating, I love their peaceful grazing, I love the feel of their wool and I laugh at their mob mentality. Yes, I love Aussie sheep. An Australian saying that signifies the importance of the wool industry to our economy, particularly in our history, states that ‘ Australia rides on the sheep’s back’. Now here I was with the sights and sounds of the stock being moved, in a demonstration of the skill and expertise of the Aussie Kelpie dog. 

The paddock held a mob of about fifteen sheep for the demonstration. They huddled fearfully up one end, circling each other, yet staying in a close knit group. Their eyes were riveted on the other end of the paddock where the kelpies were tied in a row to the  old fence posts. The working dogs leaped, barked and strained on their leads with the excitement of the moment. The farmer, with his broad Australian accent of shortened words, run all together with distinctive Aussie phrases, was giving a fast paced commentary on how to successfully train and work your dog. Finally, he selected an eager, slightly built, black masked kelpie and unclipped his lead. He called to the dog who came and sat with impatient anticipation beside him, waiting his commands. With a series of short calls, hand signals and whistles, the kelpie was off and dashing. As he approached the sheep, the stock dog took on the form of predatory stalking towards the apprehensive animals.  The farmer kept up an array of whistles and the active kelpie was soon successfully manoeuvring the mob of anxious sheep toward the direction of the races, which were set up in the paddock to receive, hold and sort the sheep. The working dog used stealth, stalking and tactics of fear to push the sheep toward their destination. As they would turn in the wrong direction, the dog was fast to wheel them around, staring a lead sheep down with intimidation, coming at it from the front, yet circling around the mob to urge them forward from the back. Always the sheep were nervously moving, tense and watching for a way of escape. Finally, they were herded into the race with the kelpie jumping on their woolly backs to push them through until the metal gates could close in behind them with a clank. It was a job well done.

My mind wanders to another time and another place. I think of Jesus and the many occasions He  would have observed the pleasant passing scene of a shepherd with his sheep. How different was the middle eastern shepherd from our Aussie farmers. Instead of tactics of intimidation and driving the sheep through force and anxiety, the Shepherd of the Bible lands led his sheep with gentleness and kindness. As evening fell the shepherd would guide the sheep tenderly to a holding pen and lead them to safety, staying with the sheep through the night and often risking his own life to protect them. He would lovingly call the sheep and they knew his voice and with confidence they would only follow him. The shepherd of Israel was tender, kind, yet firmly protective of his sheep who trusted him and followed him knowing he was leading them to rich pastures.

Jesus is a good shepherd and we are His sheep. In John 10:11 the bible says, “I am the good shepherd; the good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep.” What kind of shepherd is He? Does he drive and coerce, intimidate and force?  In Isa 40:11  it states, “Like a shepherd He will tend His flock, In His arm He will gather the lambs And carry them in His bosom; He will gently lead the nursing ewes.” John 10:27  tells us, “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me”

Who is my shepherd? Do I choose Jesus to gently lead me or do I allow another to push me in a way of his own choosing? Ps 23:1-4 “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”

Today I choose Jesus to lead, comfort and restore me with His tender, loving kindness.