White Painted Fences

White Painted Fences

I live in the beautiful, picturesque Hunter Valley in Australia. It is a rural area known internationally for it’s fine Australian wines. Our district has thousands of acres of undulating farmland growing grape vines in long, straight rows, pruned and flourishing in rich vibrant green. The Hunter valley is also internationally famous for the breeding and rearing of Thoroughbred horses and most of our country's best racehorses. It is one the of world’s largest horse breeding regions. Acre after acre of white fenced paddocks are the home to noble and elegant horses. There is something uniquely beautiful in the sight of a well groomed horse, prancing, grazing and galloping in all it’s regality. 

I am not a very “horsey” person. I grew up riding my neighbour’s uncooperative shetland pony, legs splayed over it’s ever widening girth. We plodded slowly up and down our street, only at the pace and interest of the pony. Excitement grew as another neighbour bought a real horse. She was a deep, brown mare with a touch of white splashed across her forehead. Her name was Sparky and us kids loved to hang over the wooden rails of the stock fence watching her. I grew to fear Sparky because she had the habit of biting, nipping here and there. However, growing up as all Australians do, I was raised on the bush poetry of Banjo Patterson, who authored the famous poem “The Man From Snowy River”, which told of the escape of a prize winning colt in the late 1800’s which had joined a mob of wild brumbies, and of the daring horseback pursuit though the rough and rugged terrain of Australia’s Snowy River Mountains, to capture the colt. In 1982 the poem became a very famous movie. As a result, even though I wasn’t overly keen on horses and their teeth, I placed on my bucket list of things to do one day, the desire to ride a horse in the Snowy River Mountains. 

My eldest daughter ready for the ride

My youngest daughter excited to go out riding

Several years ago my Snowy River Mountain horse riding wish came to fruition. Our church was camping down at the mountains one hot summer and I had the opportunity to go on a two hour horse trail ride with two of my daughters. My daughters loved horses and they had received some horse riding lessons as they grew. I, however was a bit more hesitant. We listened intently to the instructions, donned our hard, white riding caps, chose our horses and mounted them with enthusiasm. There was a group of about ten of us, some had never ridden and others like me were a little fearful and then there were my daughters, eagerly waiting to set off at a good pace. The Snowy River Mountains were all I had hoped for, thick bushland, steep rugged mountainsides; a beauty found only in Australia. I could picture the brumbies running wild and free and the story of the “Man From Snowy River” being played out around me. Down the precipitous mountain side we rode, leaning back in our saddles, up the arduous terrain, knees pressed close to the horse as we sat forward, feet pushing into the stirrups. The horses were sure footed, confident and moved with the ease of true bush mountain horses. The air was scented with eucalyptus trees, the loud shrieks of sulphur crested cockatoos echoed as they flew overhead and all around was the rugged attractiveness of the Australian bushland.

Our group in the Snowy River Mountains

I survived the horse ride :-)

The Rugged Bushland

Back at the Hunter Valley as I lazily lean against a white painted, wooden stock fence and gaze at the noble horses in the paddock, memories of my ride in the mountains and my inability to walk very well afterwards drift through my mind and I smile. My hands rest on the rough fence and I notice it’s paint work. White fences. Miles of white fences. Behind the fences live the best of Australia’s Thoroughbreds and our most valued race horses, all worth tens of thousands of dollars and more. White painted fences is used in the industry to protect the horses. As they gallop at high speeds during dusk or in the dark, the fences are seen clearly by them. Other fencing can find the horses colliding with them at break neck speeds and being severely injured, their careers in racing ended, maybe even their lives lost. 

God has painted the fences white in our lives. He clearly shows us where the boundaries are between a life in Him, the peace and joy of abiding in Him, and where the separation from Him occurs as we step into a place of emptiness, the “pleasures of sin for a season”, a life without His abiding presence. Will I stay within the white painted fences, or will I careen dangerously close to them, will I longingly look over them or even step over them? The fences are my protection for a rich, fulfilling abundant life of purpose, contentment and inner joy. They are placed there out of love for me. I either have the Son and life or I don’t have the Son and life. I either abide in Christ and He in me or I don’t abide in Him and He is not in me. Either  I know God and have eternal life or I don’t know Him and I don’t have eternal life. Where do I stand today? Within the white painted fences or without? Where do you stand?

Isa 59:2 But your iniquities have made a separation between you and your God

1 John 5:12 Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life

John 15:5 Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me. 

John 17:3 "This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent. 

The Unknown Purchase

The Unknown Purchase

I am technologically challenged. Added to that I dislike reading manual’s or “how to” instructions. Who understands what they are talking about anyway? Thankfully, I like to ask ‘google’ questions when I have a problem and ‘google’ usually has the answer, unless of course it’s to do with my computer. What was google saying about my computer problem? Translation please!!! For a time being my dilemma at getting past the basics was solved by a houseful of helpful teenage daughters. Then they grew up and left home, one after the other. 

The day eventually arrived when my old and ailing mac laptop was ready to be replaced. An upgrade was absolutely necessary. I took all the important documents and photos off the old white computer, storing them appropriately for safe keeping, in case it should suddenly cease to function. However, I could hold off it’s replacement no longer. My youngest daughter was still in and out of home as a college student; my ‘boomerang baby’, the one who kept returning. Her tech savvy ability was a must. After some discussion, my delightful daughter decided to accompany me to the nearest Apple store and initiate and complete the transaction for me. My role in the task was to hand her my credit card. Off we went to the closest Apple store where we were greeted at the door by smiling, friendly staff. I looked around at all the stylish, contemporary tables with their wide variety of apple products on display and a mob of smiling, friendly staff ready on hand. I followed my daughter across the busy store to where the shiny new silver laptop sat. She started to show it to me and explain it’s functions when an amiable sales man came over to us. Then my daughter just took control of the situation. I hung behind her as she sorted out the sale with confidence. Finally, my moment of involvement arrived, and she held out her hand and I passed her my credit card. The transaction was completed and my daughter set up the lap top there in the store, with the salesman discussing it with her. At home, my daughter continued to direct and guide me on my new adventure. 

Several years later my new lap top started seriously slowing down. Moving from screen to screen became almost unbearable. The spinning, coloured circle, indicating my need to wait, kept twirling time and again across my screen. I prayed. I rang the free technical support service. The technician helpfully guided me through different parts of my computer to determine the problem. The diagnosis concluded that my hard drive was in it’s final moments of activity. I prayed some more. This was going to be expensive. My anxiety levels increased. I continued to pray. Suddenly my mind registered, with joy, what the computer specialist was saying to me. “You still have over three hundred days on your Apple Care.” Apple Care? I had Apple Care? A surge of relief coursed through my veins. My wonderful daughter had not only helped me purchase my new lap top, but she had, unknown to me, added Apple Care into the transaction. I was able to take my lap top back to my nearby Apple Store and within hours a new hard drive was placed within my computer free of charge.

My mind thought about a service I had unknowingly purchased and was there for me to use in my future, if necessary. I had no idea I owned it. How much this is like our relationship with God. He has purchased my redemption, my freedom and  my eternal life, do I even realise it? It’s there for me as a gift. It’s free. Not only has He purchased this for me, God is actually already in my future. There is nothing that comes my way that My Heavenly Father is not prepared for; He has already provided the way for me to pass through it. Nothing comes unexpectedly to Him. I can have complete confidence that all the problems, dilemmas and heart aches have been weighed gently in His hands and allowed to come to me only because He is there to carry me though everything and that He is working all things together for good. God has provided abundantly for each situation that comes my way, both now and in my future. I can rest peacefully in Him. I can trust Him. Can you?

Rev 22:13 "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.”

Jer 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Ps 46:10 Declaring the end from the beginning, And from ancient times things which have not been done, Saying, 'My purpose will be established, And I will accomplish all My good pleasure'

Weep Not

Weep Not

She was completely and utterly grief stricken. With her head bowed  low and her shoulders stooped in abject despair, she walked in a haze, down the steep, stony pathway. Around her the air was filled with the sounds of crying, some from sympathy, some from deepest compassion and others, who from idle curiosity had joined the mourning throng; added their wailing to the cacophony. She hesitated, stopping to gaze down the mountainside to the lush, green plains below. Thoughts flooded her memory, bringing only a fresh flush of tears as the pasture lands reminded her, of the daily work of her late husband, and now deceased son. What was to become of her? The ‘all too recent’ tragic circumstances that left her bereft of the companionship and support of her husband was still breaking her heart, when suddenly, her only child, her son, had the breath of life snatched away from him. Could there be any greater sorrow than the loss of these two men? Oh how she loved them both. How she missed them. How would she survive? She had no one, absolutely no one left to provide her support and security. She glanced over at the stretcher bearing the lifeless form of her son, now wrapped in white cloths, his face covered. The litter was being carried by his strong young friends. She stepped forward, slowly descending with the small crowd of mourners towards the burial caves that lined the rocky, dusty pathway. Each step sadly taking her towards the finality of her farewell.

The crying crowd, having just left the village gate, paused to make way for a large group who were now ascending the mountainside.Their leader was a man of noble bearing. His compassionate eyes filled with love, as He took in the scene before Him. In that moment He read the life story of the humble, sorrowing widow. Everyone stopped as Jesus spoke in tones of love, understanding and tender feeling to the weeping widow. “Do not Weep”, He gently said. She raised her gaze from the dusty ground and beheld the eyes of deepest love. A flicker of hope came to her hurting heart, the warmth of comfort flooded her soul. People wondered at the ignorance of such  uttered words, after all, this was her only son who had died and not long after the calamitous death of her husband. Jesus’s words seemed so out of place, but were they? There was a silence as the cries of birds could be heard echoing through the burial caves further down the stony road. All eyes were on Jesus as He stepped towards the body being borne by his friends. The young stretcher bearers stood still. What would Jesus do? He is obviously a teacher, a rabbi maybe.  Then Jesus graciously reached out His hand and touched the lifeless one, and in ringing tones of power He called out, “Young man, I say to you, get up!” In utter amazement all beheld as the wrapped body sat up, the cloth falling from his face revealed a robust colour of health and life. He turned to his friends around him and spoke. In haste, they roughly placed the stretcher down in the dust. Jesus bent over the now filled with life, young man and in quiet gentleness He unwrapped the bandages of death. Taking him by the hand, Jesus presented the son, in the full vigour of youthfulness, to his mother. In rapturous joy she clung to her son and in tears of gratefulness, the widow kept uttering her praise over and over to God. The crowd drew closer in amazement and awe. Songs of praise burst from their lips. “A great prophet has appeared among us,” they said. “God has come to help his people.” ( Luke 7:16 )

I often wonder about the Widow of Nain and the experience she went through. In life we too find ourselves in bleak situations in which there appears no solution, no way out and no hope. Perhaps you are in that place right now? Perhaps I am? The widow of Nain was. Maybe you are in the time of comfort. It is a seemingly impossible matter, everything is still all dark but Jesus has come to you and consoled you and spoken to your heart, just as He has spoken to mine and said, “ Do not weep,” and in the brief sentence there is  a spark hope. Could this be the time in your life where you see Jesus reach out to touch this insurmountable difficulty with His mighty power. As He reaches, hope and joy spring to life. Could He? Would He? Yes! The situation is solved, a miraculous event occurs, newness and life leaps into the deadest, darkest and coldest of circumstances. Praise courses through our veins and erupts from our lips in deepest heart felt strains to God. Where is your life today? Where is mine? Are we waiting for that touch? Wait in hopeful expectation because God has promised that He will touch it. Weep not. He is there, reaching out to place His hand on your impossible situation and on mine.

Jer 31:17 "There is hope for your future," declares the LORD

Ecc 3:11 He has made everything beautiful in its time

Rom 8:28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

The Duel

The Duel

I was nine years of age as I hung over the wire, side fence of our yard, watching the removalist’s truck slowly backing up the neighbour’s rough, cement driveway. The small fibro house next door had been sold and new neighbours were moving in. Would they have children? Did they have pets? What were they like? Who were they? I was curious and impatient to find the answers to all my questions. Cars came and went, people came and went. The truck was eventually unloaded. With all the comings and goings and my sporadic watching, it was impossible to determine who the new neighbours were going to be. My anticipation reached greater heights and my inquisitiveness grew. Several days later, our family finally had the privilege of meeting the lovely new neighbours. They were an older, early retired couple with a huge collection of cats, and they had two boisterous grandsons, who lived nearby. There was almost an immediate bond and I was tucked under their wings as an extra grandchild and thus began a very wonderful friendship that continued until more recent years, when they both passed away. 

One happy afternoon their grandson, Andrew, and I, were playing in the backyard when we wandered into the large garage’s side door. Our eyes adjusted to the dimness and as we looked around the garage became a delight of exploration. There were boxes and boxes and a cluttered assortment of belongings from England through to Malaysia and from Australia itself, as my adopted grandparents had moved from country to country. A cat lay snuggly on a wooden work bench near the glass window, soaking up a beam of sunshine streaming brightly in. The lawn mower and rusty gardening tools, presented obstacles to be clambered past, as we looked at one item after another and poked inside one box after another. 

Then we found them. They were shiny and metal, long and thin. They stood abandoned in a darkened corner. They were foils, swords used in fencing. Fencing as a sport uses three different kinds of swords. The foil is a lighter practice weapon used by duellers to hone their skills. The blade on a foil is about thirty-five inches long. It is a lighter more flexible, rectangular blade and a descendent of the light court sword used in the past by nobilities to train for duels. Andrew and I picked them up and looked them over. We were excited. They looked like fun. We decided to have a mock duel. We took them outside into the backyard to play with them. We held their handles, with the circular guards protecting our hands, and we stood in an appropriate posture with our minds on our footwork, with the shiny tips pointed daringly at each other. We clanged our swords together with a resounding clash and in mock duel we thrust the tips towards each other’s torso. We danced in fancy footwork back and forth, hitting our swords and pointing at each other. Suddenly a shrill voice called both our names. We stopped and turned to see my adopted grandmother with an extremely concerned look on her face. We had absolutely no idea that handling swords in an untrained manner and without the safety of a fencer’s uniform was very unwise. The swords were taken from us and placed in a safe spot far away from any further uses we may find for them in the future.

The Bible tells us we have a sword and it “is the word of God” (Eph 6:18). We are advised to “take up the full armour of God” ( Eph 6:14) to protect us in warfare. Can we handle our swords unwisely? How are we to use them? The mighty men protecting Solomon were men who were to “ all hold swords, being expert in war” ( Song of Sol 3:8) We can be experts, but how? 2 Tim 2:15 “Study to show yourself approved to God, a workman that needs not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.” Jesus is not just the living Word of God ( John 1:1, 14) but revelation depicts Him symbolically with a sharp two-edged sword coming out of His mouth. ( Rev 1:16)

In Heb 4:12 it says, “For the word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart .”The word of God is a double edged sword because it is offensive as well as defensive. “Every time you read the Word of God it will become more and more entrenched in your heart - no matter how many times you have read it before. When you speak the Word of God in the face of every attack of the enemy, you are driving a sword through his plans…. The Word will change us every time we read it.” Stormy Omartian.

Ps 45:3 Gird your sword on your side, you mighty one

Psalm 149:6 May the praise of God be in their mouths and a double-edged sword in their hands

Getting Ready

Getting Ready

I am in state of great excitement and anticipation. My best friend, who lives in the USA, is coming to visit me, in Australia. Every day, since she enthusiastically purchased her plane ticket, we have been counting the days down.  At the moment of writing this, we are at 8 weeks and 6 days. As each  new morning dawns, we calculate one day less until she will joyfully arrive at Sydney airport. In my mind I am rehearsing over and over that moment when she will step through the doors at the arrivals area of the airport, and pushing her trolley full of tightly packed luggage, she will proceed down the ramp. Will I patiently wait behind the rail until she reaches me, or will I disregard the signs and run up the ramp to give her a big hug and help with the luggage?

Meanwhile, I am in a place of great preparations. There are multitudinous things to attend to. Firstly, she is gluten free and mostly vegan. I am not gluten free, so I have created menus and shopping lists and I am in the process of cooking special delectable savouries to go with vegetables and salads, just for her. Placing the savouries in small, meal sized containers, I am stacking my freezer. In my spare time, I am researching interesting places to go to and fascinating things to do, discussing them with her, as we make our choices. I have created a list of what we could do each week she is here, the free activities, the places to visit close by, and the major day trips. My mind  is merrily anticipating journeys to the aquarium, steam train rides, a cave tour to see beautiful stalagmites and stalactites, the Butterfly House, dolphins and much more. On our list we can calculate costs and budget and plan. My excitement is mounting. What Bible study will we choose to do together in the mornings? What spiritual book will we read together in the evenings? I am smiling. I have looked around the house and factored in some major “spring cleaning” projects. The filing cabinet was decluttered of the many unnecessary papers and moved into the second spare room, thus creating more space in our dining  area. One of my daughters left home during her college time last year, dragging an assortment of pillows with her and now I suddenly find the pillows in this house are in a depleted supply. So plans are under way to purchase some more. The house is humming with activities and purpose. My husband is cheerfully helping me in all the preparations and looking forward to my friend’s arrival. In the final week there will be one last spruce up, one last lawn mowed and one last item cooked. We will be ready. 

As Seventh Day Adventists we often hear the phrase, ‘ get ready for Jesus’s second coming’. What does that mean? How do I get ready? What will that preparedness look like in my life? I can ponder a time schedule based on a list of end time events to be unfolded in the future or I can realise that if I get ‘hit by a bus’ tomorrow, then my next waking thought will be, the second coming of Jesus. So in reality, Jesus’s Second Coming could be any time. If that is the case, what does readiness look like? Just as I look with joyful anticipation on my friend’s arrival, I too can look with joyful anticipation to Jesus’s coming. I love my friend, I enjoy every moment with her, I want to spend time with her.  I love Jesus, I enjoy every moment with Him and I want to spend time with Him. This desire to be with my friend creates within me an enthusiasm to be prepared for her coming. The desire to be with Jesus, always and forever, creates in me an enthusiasm to be prepared for His coming. With my friend I am budgeting, planning events and activities centred around being together but we are spending time together right now in friendship. I am spending daily time with Jesus in friendship now, getting to know Him more, connecting and growing in Him and allowing Him to change me, as I behold His love for me. I eagerly look forward to spending eternity with Him. My preparations for my friend’s arrival absorbs my time, my money and our household plans. Preparing for Jesus’s arrival absorbs my entire life, my thoughts and my heart, all that I have and all that I am. Am I preparing for Jesus’s Second Coming? Are you?

Matt 24: 44 Therefore be you also ready: for in such an hour as you think not the Son of man comes.

Rev 19:7, 8 Let us rejoice and be glad and give the glory to Him, for the marriage of the Lamb has come and His bride has made herself ready.” It was given to her to clothe herself in fine linen, bright and clean; for the fine linen is the righteous acts of the saints.

Earthquake of Freedom

Earthquake of Freedom

In January 2014, my nephew was driving us around the desolation of Christchurch in the south island of New Zealand. The sites we saw were sad, disheartening and solemn. My husband, Michael, was shocked. The beloved city of his childhood was barely recognisable. Buildings that were subconsciously landmarks of direction, were missing and a sense of bewilderment came over him.  Memories of childhood earthquake safety drills at school came flooding back to his mind. Recollections from younger days of being jolted and shaken stood starkly in Michael’s mind.  We drove past his childhood home, it was damaged and a sadness enveloped my husband. Earthquakes are the fear of every New Zealander.

Christchurch Cathedral

Early in the morning on September 4, 2010 an earthquake of 7.1 had rudely jolted the residents of Christchurch and the surrounding Canterbury Plains, awake. In the darkness, the reeling earth tossed people back and forth for an eternal fifty seconds. Dishes smashed, books and belongings toppled off shelves, houses shook violently from side to side. Silence and stillness descended as people slowly started to survey the damage. 

The came the aftershocks, wave upon wave of aftershocks. Sleepless nights and fear gripped the people of Christchurch. Children were unsettled. Was the ‘big one’ still to come? With each sudden jolt came the terror of wondering if ‘this is it’ as the seconds passed in eternal timelessness. Then it came  with full intensity on February 22, 2011, a large, destructive aftershock of 6.3 convulsed the area, back and forth and up and down it rocked and reeled buildings, belongings and people. The damage was horrendous to individual homes and belongings. The Canterbury Television building in the city was almost entirely razed with the loss of over 100 people. Buildings that had been weakened in the previous earthquake collapsed and toppled into the street crushing cars and pedestrians. The city’s icon, the Christchurch Cathedral suffered severe damage.  Children and parents, who had been separated by work and school, tried frantically to reach one another, mobile phone reception was down, electricity was gone, water became unsafe to drink, roads were buckled and split. Homes became unliveable and toilets unusable. Then came the liquefaction as vast quantities of grey sandy silt came bubbling up out of the depths of the earth, covering entire suburbs in stinking mud.

Liquefaction

Here we were several years after the momentous event that was to change the face of Christchurch forever, driving around forsaken suburbs, boarded up buildings, vacant blocks of land, and tumbled down buildings. It was a solemn and sad time. All together 185 people lost their lives in a city of only 400,000. It impacted each and every person. It impacted us.

The Bible tells us the story of another earthquake. Paul and Silas have been wrongfully stripped, beaten, thrown into an inner cell of a dark, dank prison and had their feet placed in stocks. There they were hurt and suffering, full of pain with all freedom denied them. Yet they sang and prayed. They worshipped God. Their minds were on their heavenly Father and not on their own seemingly hopeless and painful condition. Suddenly an earthquake rumbled and shook the prison. The doors were flung open, the stocks on their feet were broken. They stood as free men, no longer bound. This is the earthquake we need in our own lives. As captives to sin and satan we lie in bondage, unable to free ourselves, hurt and wounded by the pain of this world, God calls us to worship Him. To sing and pray and focus our minds off ourselves and our current situations and onto Him the Lord of our situations. Worshiping God lifts us into His presence. Then and only then can the earthquake of the presence of God break the chains from off us and open the prison doors, setting us free in the light of His glory. Come and let us worship God today and enter into His presence. 

Acts 16:25, 26 But at midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them.  Suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken; and immediately all the doors were opened and everyone’s chains were loosed. 

Ps 22:3 But you are holy, O you that inhabit the praises of Israel.

Ps 107:14 He brought them out of darkness and gloom and broke their chains apart. 

John 8:36 So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.

Running in Circles

Running in Circles

The wool shed was over one hundred years old. It stood weathered and old in the grassy paddock beside our house. Originally it had been two separate slab houses that had been joined together, with the flooring added, to become the wool shed. The biting cold of the winter winds had been kept out by newspaper, which had been pasted in layers on the inside walls and was now faded, yellowed and peeling. The  dirt floor had been replaced by the common wooden slats of the shearing shed and had seen many a shearers’ boots and the frantic hooves of sheep being mustered. The old wool table, where the full fleece was thrown for skirting and classing, stood lonely and dusty. Antique wooden wool presses lay discarded and forgotten. Timber pens for sheep were now empty, and the sound of bleating sheep waiting to be shorn was a forgotten memory. The metal roof was rusting and the woodshed stood solitary with the echoes of many shearing seasons of bygone days.

The sheep, on the property we lived on, were either 'cross breds' or merinos. They were bought and sold seasonly and were flocks of young wethers, being shorn and then sent off to market for their meat before another mob was bought cheaply from out west, fattened quickly, shorn and sold as well. Rather than modernising the old wool shed, the sheep were placed on cattle trucks and taken to a neighbouring property to be shorn. They were regularly rotated around various dry grass paddocks, being successfully herded by the enthusiastic Aussie kelpie dog and pushed along by the sheep manager on a four wheeler. 

One day the mob had been split up and a group of about fifty were brought into the small paddock that housed the now empty wool shed. The grasses were growing tall and presented a fire and  snake hazard. The sheep were needed to reduce the paddock to small tufts of chewed grasses. They grazed peacefully beside each other, stopping occasionally to look around and chew their cud. Gentle bleating floated on the soft breeze of a warm spring day. Suddenly a sheep was startled, and by what, I have never found out. With a sharp cry one sheep leaped into the air, coming down on all four hooves to only start running madly. He dashed for the shadowy side of the wool shed. Alarmed, the other sheep raised their heads and within moments they had ceased from chewing and had let out a variety of frightened bleats and hurtled themselves in the direction of the startled sheep. Around the side of the wool shed, they dashed, following the first sheep. They were spooked and every single sheep ran. Not one sheep remained. Stampeding and crying they hotly pursued each other until all fifty sheep had round the woodshed corner and disappeared out of sight. The first sheep who had sounded the alarm came back into view and slowed down, catching his breath and looking around him. All seemed to be safe and he was ready to settle once more to the huge task of daily eating, when in his peripheral vision he caught sight of the last sheep rounding the corner. Shocked, the first sheep took off at a rapid run towards the final sheep. Around the corner of the old wool shed he dashed once more, no longer the leader, he was now a follower. Minute after minute passed as the sheep in panic circled the wool shed, each following the other. Round and round they went with no clear leader and with no clear reason for running. Eventually they slowed down, worn and harried, coming to a final stop in their distressed state. It took some time for them to settle peacefully once more to their contended grazing. 

Sometimes I feel like those sheep. I am busy dashing it what feels like circles. I am in rapid pursuit of all that needs to be done in a feeling of anxiety and stress. Others around me sense the tension and are impacted. What am I following after? Why is there stress? Does it even make sense? Why am I going round and round in circles? God calls to me to rest in Him, to graze peacefully beside the still waters of His presence. He asks me to bring my burdens, all I have to do, my plans and my busyness to Him in full surrender, to be worked out each day in His way and with His peaceful Spirit calmly abiding within. Today I choose to abide in Him and allow His Spirit to dwell in me. “Lord take my plans, my burdens and my busyness and work your way and your will with all that lies before me today.” Amen

Ps 23:2,3 He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness For His name's sake.

Matt 11:28 "Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.”